Blood and Ice
by harmoniedusoir
Summary: "Though it pained me so, I was never so real as those lonely, lost times of my undoing." Two years after the events in Mournhold, Llovesi has become a recluse, haunted by her fears and regrets. But she soon will learn that Tamriel has not yet finished with her. A land to the north is beckoning... TES III: Bloodmoon adaptation. Quest Spoilers. Language and violence.
1. Prologue

**A/N and Disclaimer: Hello again! This is Blood and Ice, the final part in my Morrowind Trilogy. Probably best to go and read Fire and Ash and Heart and Stone first if you haven't! As with Tribunal, my vision of Bloodmoon will differ slightly from the game's version, and I may even incorporate a bit of inspiration from TES V: Dragonborn. TES III: Bloodmoon is Bethesda's, and Julan Kaushibael is Kateri's. I'm afraid updates may not be all that regular on this, but I intend to keep them coming as quickly as I can!**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Prologue<strong>_

**Sun's Height, 3E 430.**

His daughter's eyes. They swam before his own. His daughter's eyes were the last thing Geilir had seen.

He stumbled suddenly, throwing out a useless hand while the other clutched the rags that had been robes. The hard, cold ground bit into his knees as he raised his eyes to the sky, salt drying on his face.

They had been sitting in their cabin. The rocking of the boat made Geilir queasy, and it brought on his Sight worse than ever. His daughter would sit with him and help him through it, holding his hands as he gazed into her steady blue eyes. She would whisper to him while his wife watched, whisper to him and decipher the stutters that came back. The other passengers had taken to calling him Geilir the Mumbling.

His daughter had been sat with him that night, listening, muttering back, when her eyes went wide.

"He sleeps… he sleeps…" she said, quickly, urgently.

The boat shook violently, throwing them to the floor. His wife was tossed from her bunk, jolted into waking.

"What's happening?" she asked, grasping weakly at the cabin wall.

Geilir and his daughter stared at each other on the floor, their eyes widening simultaneously.

"The captain..." they whispered together.

They ran. All around them was the sound of cabin doors being thrown open, of passengers forcefully emptying their stomachs.

Up top the sky was black and the rain slashing at the deck was like a sheet of ice. Geilir threw one skinny arm above his eyes, trying to see what was happening, see in the here and now.

A flash of lightning illuminated the whole doomed scene.

Twenty foot waves were tossing the ship from side to side, twisting it, pulling it along. It was nothing but a plaything in their giant hands.

And at the wheel, the captain slumped.

Crates and barrels were snapping free of the bonds that held them, the great sails were spirits hurling through the air, and twice as incorporeal.

Another flash of lightning as the captain jerked upright, too late.

Geilir and his daughter were thrown portside as the ship slanted. It seemed a great hole had opened in the ocean before them. And beyond it, a great wave, rising twenty-five, thirty feet before them. A great wall of black that seemed to blot out even the clouds, thrown into sharp relief by a crack of lightning.

"Father, move!"

Hands pushed him firmly aside and Geilir stumbled, grasping at the balustrade. He turned to see the crate hurtling towards them, the crate his daughter had so narrowly saved him from, catch her full in the chest.

The last thing Geilir remembered, before the wave hit and pulled him under too, was the sight of his daughter's eyes, disappearing beneath the waves.

Somehow, he had washed ashore. Now, as the grey light of morning swept over the landscape, he saw that he was where he was meant to be. Solstheim. And he had lost everything.

Geilir began to stagger inland, when he stumbled again. This time his foot had connected with something soft. The soft thing groaned then rolled over and pushed itself upright. It was the captain, Thormoor Gray-Wave, his fur armour water-logged and crisping with morning frost but very, very much alive.

Geilir was seized by a rage like known he had ever known before. He seized the captain by his furs and pulled him upright, so that the men were eye to eye.

"You slept!" he snarled, spittle flying from his mouth into the other man's face.

"I-I..." Thormoor stuttered, his eyes lowered, trying to free himself from Geilir's grasp.

"You slept, and now they're all dead! You will never sleep again!"

As he dropped the trembling captain, Geilir felt the old magic burn within him and knew he could make it so. In a whisper, he cursed the captain, then turned on his heel and strode away without another world.

He made it barely three paces before the new Voice called out to him.

It was unlike the others that sometimes accompanied his Sight, all clouded and vague. It was crisp, clear, female and as loud as if someone had just spoken directly into his ear.

_Come and find me, Geilir._

He stood still, and concentrated carefully, trying to still the trembling in his hands.

_Who are you?_ he thought back.

_I am Oddfrid. Come and save me. Save me from Kolbjorn Barrow._

_And why would I do that?_ he thought bitterly.

_Because of what I can show you._

And she showed him. For the second time that morning, Geilir the Mumbling was brought to his knees.

He saw a sky full of red. Crimson clouds, blood-red steam rising, and two scarlet moons. And now he saw that the land was red too, with great fires roaring through the taiga and blood on the ice. And great beasts, bursting forth, furred and fanged, scaled and clawed. And gaping holes to oblivion itself. And lava flowing, ash falling, dragons rising. And… and… and…

And there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.


	2. Dreams

_**Chapter 1: Dreams**_

**Sun's Dusk, 3E 430.**

Llovesi was running.

Every night it was the same.

The metal echoed dully beneath her feet as she ran. One hand traced the scars on the walls: fallen panels, dead wires, stopped cogs. The other clutched her throat, where every breath was tight and hard fought.

Then she was in the chamber again, facing the door.

The figure turned, lifted the mask.

And it was Helseth looking back at her.

"Don't you see? I have won."

She pushed past him and ran.

Almalexia was waiting outside.

"Don't you see? I have won."

She spun on her heel and ran again, arms reaching for the walls as the light faded.

Fedris Hler seemed to spring towards her out of nothing. She tripped, faltered, ran again, running from him, running from the words, those inevitable words.

"Don't you see? I have won."

The faces flashed quicker than ever. Dagoth Ur. Orvas Dren. Ahmabi. Bolvyn Venim. Dagoth Gares. Azura. Vivec.

And the words, louder than ever, beating against her eardrums, until she fell to her knees, clutching her head, screaming, but even that couldn't drown them out….

"Don't you see? I have won."

"Don't you see? I have won."

"Don't you see? I have won."

Then silence and blackness. Normally it ended there.

This night, it was different. She got to her feet unsteadily, turned, and addressed the void.

"Then... what have I lost?"

* * *

><p>Korst Wind-Eye ran with the wolves.<p>

While he sat crossed-legged on his threadbare rug, his familiar darted through the pines, pausing to sniff the scent on a nearby tree. The forest was alive with the howls of wolves; the music of the night carrying high and far on the wind, but it was no more than a distant song in the Skaal Village where Korst was waiting.

The elk was wounded now, and the pack was closing in. Soon the hunt would be over. But a bellyful of meat was not the shaman's purpose here tonight, and with a gentle nudge he moved his familiar away from the pack and onto a different trail.

The land was different somehow. The wolf felt it through his paws as he trotted through the fresh midnight snow and Korst felt it in his mind, had felt it for months. Was it the Imperials? But they were many miles south of this position, beyond the great ice lake Fjalding, the Insinfier plains and the Hirstaang forest, even.

This scent was closer.

The wolf circled round a frozen pool, glistening in the moonlight, and delved deeper into the thicket of trees. The wolfsong was beginning to mix with something else now: a low humming, or a chanting. The wolf moved forward even more cautiously now, his ears pricked and his snout close to the ground.

Miles away, his eyes closed, Korst Wind-Eye frowned.

There was a glow filtering through the trees, casting dancing, dappled hues of red and orange on the snow. The chanting was louder, more powerful. The wolf's brain could make no sense of it; so neither could Korst's. They crept forward as one, the fur on the wolf's back rising as surely as Korst's skin pricked like a hen's.

The fire was burning large and bright in the centre of the grove, painting dark shadows narrow and long across the snow. The shadows twitched and flowed as the figures moved round the fire, chanting, kneeling, standing again.

Even the wolf's keen eyes couldn't make out any crucial details at this distance. Korst coaxed it forwards gently from the tree trunks, feeling apprehension press the creature's ears flat against its skull.

There were at least twenty of them, all circling with their arms raised high. Pale skin shone in the firelight, and Korst could now see a dark liquid staining their arms, seeping from beneath the furs. He didn't need the wolf's nose to know what it was. Blood. They were wearing the freshly – the messily – skinned pelts of wolves.

Korst's own wolf companion let out an uncontrollable whimper. Korst gritted his teeth, but the figures round the fire didn't seem to have heard, so loud was their chanting now. A different scent was mixing with blood, sweat and smoke. Then, through a group in the moving bodies, he was able to see what they were dancing around. A fire yes, but heaped round a tree stripped bare of its pine leaves and planted upright in the flames. Wolf skulls were hung upon its branches, a skull for every pelt. The flesh that still clung to the bone was beginning to blacken and char.

Korst's familiar began to tremble, its snout curling into a snarl, its tail bristling. These shapes, clad in fur and blood, these shapes were Threats. The wolf was backing away now, a low growl rising from its throat. Korst let it. The wolf had run all the sights he needed to see tonight. Whatever this was, the wolf should be allowed to escape it.

But then one of the figures turned suddenly, and saw the wolf standing there, its hackles raised. He started towards it, and the wolf let out an alarmed yip. More of the figures turned from their worship to look at the wolf. A lone wolf, far from its pack, with intelligent eyes in its fearful body. The chanting dulled to a whisper as the fire crackled and the wolf froze, assuming a defensive position: lips pulled up, ears flat, crouched low to the ground.

The man in front spoke. To the wolf's ears it was human nonsense, not worth the attention paid to the watchful eyes of the crowd. To Korst who could see the man's lips moving in the firelight, it was danger, immediate and bloodthirsty:

"Kill it."

Weapons were raised, firelights and moonlight alike glinting off axes and spears. The wolf pounced. It sank its teeth into the throat of the nearest man, feeling bone crunch in its jaw, when an axe found its neck. It took five more blows to stop it, and it tore an arm from another worshipper while they tried.

Korst stayed with it until the end. The rest of the worshippers were pulling it past the fire, and Korst was in its mind, soothing, coaxing, until the blackness came. The last thing he saw through the wolf's eyes were the twin moons, both stained the colour of blood.

The shaman woke with a shudder, and hurled himself towards the door. His legs were dead with sleep from the long run in the wolf's mind, and he fell as his fingers grazed the latch of his hut's door. He retched violently on the floor, the feeling of the wolf's death still sitting in his mind, its final fear hanging on. Fear and anger and panic and death. And his own guilt, mixing in. He had never lost a familiar before. How could he have been so cruel, so careless, so... curious.

He had to know, he had to see, so just as fear had pushed him down, it pulled him on. His groping hand found the latch and he pushed the door open, shoving it hard against the fresh drift of autumn snow that had fallen outside.

Both moons were clear in the sky as the wolf had seen. Masser, great, tarnished scarlet. And Secunda, smaller in its sibling's shadow, beautifully, blessed, white.

Korst almost sank to his knees in relief, but something stopped him. A premonition perhaps, or a recollection of how the ground had felt beneath the wolf's paws, how the chanting in the forest had sounded.

He glanced towards the Great Hall, a dark shape thrown into relief by the few flickering torches of the night guard, then seemed to change his mind, and re-entered his hut.

* * *

><p>Nibani Maesa sat, still as time itself.<p>

A circle of ash salts was spread about her on the earthen floor, her rugs neatly rolled up and placed to one side.

On the fire there was a small redware bowl in which a paste of fire petals and void salts simmered, releasing heavy, bitter fumes that flowed along the ground instead of rising to the top of the yurt. Nibani breathed in deeply, and tried to settle her mind to that careful state of blank awareness.

It was harder than usual, for she was more troubled than usual. Even when she had sought Azura's visions during the year of the Nerevarine she had possessed a measure of certainty in her ignorance. Is she, isn't she. Will she, won't she. Now she had nothing. The Nerevarine–Llovesi, she ought call her by her name now that the prophecy had run its course. _Except_ of course that it hadn't. While various rumours circulated, even among the Ashlanders, about the status of the False Three, the outlanders remained to trouble Morrowind. Llovesi, their sworn voice and protector, had disappeared into seclusion since the summer of the year she had defeated Dagoth Ur, two years ago. The devil was gone, and so was their champion–The Nerevarine had left them.

Llovesi, someone she had come to respect, even regard as a friend, yet an outlander. An unusual outlander, who acted for causes other than her own gain. Vvardenfell was changing, and Nibani felt more keenly than ever that a new era was coming. But they needed people like Llovesi, to guide it in, and to ensure their survival. Even if the others had moved on, had forgotten. Nibani remembered, and hoped...

Nibani sighed, her eyes screwed shut. Her thoughts ran away from her, half-formed, rambling. The long silence could not be shattered by her thoughts alone, and if she didn't try again it would soon be too late. She relaxed her face once more, shifted slightly, and inhaled the incense deeply.

_Guide me, Azura. I am your servant. Show me what must happen, with your blessing._

The next morning at dawn, Nibani packed two weeks' rations, a change of robes and a few other supplies into a pack and strode straight over to Sul-Matuul's yurt.

The Ashkhan was already awake, reading letters by candlelight. He straightened up as she entered, his eyes immediately finding her pack.

"Nibani? You are preparing to travel?"

"I am." She placed her pack at her feet carefully. "With your leave I would set off for the Ahemmusa immediately. Hainab will sit as wise woman until my return. She is coming along well in her training."

Sul-Matuul let out a long sigh and crossed the room to her.

"I can see you are quite resolved in this. And you have come to me not to seek permission but reassurance. I must speak plainly: she will not see you."

"She will."

Sul-Matuul dropped her hand with an expression close to exasperation. "It has been two years, Nibani. Two years of refused meetings, unanswered letters. Dagoth Ur is dead and the power of the False Gods is failing. The time of the Nerevarine is over. It is done."

"Is it?" Nibani held his gaze as she strode past him to the table, where she ran a hand over the letters there.

"It is as I thought," she said, after glancing over the parchment. "Word from Ashkahn Han-Ammu of the Erabenimsun. Mistress Uvirith is growing her tower further in Molag Amur. Threatening to encroach on their hunting grounds. Advice wanted."

She picked up another letter. "The Temple is planning on opening the old strongholds as places of pilgrimage. And an enterprising mage from Caldera is working with them. He believes he has found a way to get the old propylon circle working again. Truly that would be a feat. And it would certainly bring more travellers to our doorstep."

She counted out the letters one by one. "Trade deals. Territory agreements. Ambassadors' greetings."

"These are problems the Ashkhan has always had to deal with," Sul-Matuul said, folding his arms behind his back. "Ever since the Empire forced its way into Morrowind. I do not yet see your point." But the way his eyes shifted told Nibani otherwise.

"Our land is changing, Sul," she said, crossing back over to him. "It is changing more than ever, faster than ever, and we are being dragged along with it. The old Blight has gone, and a new one stepped in. The blight of progress. I fear for our future if we do not act."

"And your solution is to chase the ghosts of the past."

Nibani reached out and took up his hand. "You made her swear a duty to you, Sul. She was to help us resist. Be the one that connected the land again, unite Ashlander and Great House, and oust the outlanders. Now these fragile alliances may break, and we will be lost in the flood. You told her she would not steal our hope. We still need her. I have seen it."

Sul-Matuul let out a short bark of a laugh. "Two and a half years ago I stood in your yurt telling you much the same thing. How this hard-headed outlander might be the one we needed. Do you remember how you raged? How stubborn you were?" He shook his head, a touch fondly, a touch sadly. "It seems we have both been right. But what makes you think it will work this time?"

"Azura has sent me a vision. A certainty."

They held each other's gaze for a long moment.

"Very well," Sul-Matuul said finally. "I accept your counsel, and give you your reassurance: go to the Ahemmusa with my blessing. And take Maeli with you. I put my trust in her sword as much as your magic."

They leant until their foreheads touched in farewell, then straightened together.

"There is just one last thing," Nibani said. "I need to see our maps of the province. I need to find a place called Solstheim."


	3. Empty Nothings

_**Chapter 2: Empty Nothings**_

**Evening Star, 3E 430**

The flame flowed round her hand, a twisting ribbon of pure magical fire dancing from fingertip to fingertip. Llovesi watched it, only half seeing it, as it spun faster and faster, losing all distinct form. She made a fist and it vanished. Sighing, she closed her eyes, and leant her head back against Malacath's cold stone legs.

Empty. Nothing. A dull cloud had settled over her thoughts, a fog that was here to stay**. **Everything she did, waking, walking the halls, chewing listlessly on her food, felt like an enormous effort. When she took herself away like this, the rest of the Ahemmusa thought she was praying. It was really so she could avoid their attempts at conversation, their pitying looks. She hadn't prayed in two years. The statues she chose were whims, though seemingly appropriate ones. Sheogorath, Lord of madness. Molag Bal, Lord of domination and enslavement. Mehrunes Dagon, Lord of destruction and change. Malacath, Lord of the ostracized. The four corners of her house of troubles, here in Ald Daedroth.

Llovesi opened her eyes again, and set another jet of flame spiralling about her hand. _Ridiculous_, she managed to think. _Melodramatic. I'm not mad, I'm not ostracized, and I haven't been destroyed or enslaved. I have people who love me, who want to help me. So why can't I help myself?_

She had tried. She had tried to throw herself into work with the camp, learning to weave fishing nets, darn clothes and mix potions. She had even gone to the mainland a few times with the hunt, at Julan's insistence. But she could not, would not, speak with the visitors, travel to the councils, answer the letters. Some choking feeling grasped her throat whenever she thought about it, a cold sweat slicked her back and the cloud in her mind grew heavier. And she would come to a statue and sit, and wait, and hope it would go away. Sometimes she wondered why she felt that way at all, but she was already half way to an answer. She couldn't be their Nerevarine. The people of Morrowind didn't want a saviour who claimed their gods were dead.

But that wasn't the whole story, was it? Something had broken within her in the Clockwork City, something invisible yet so fundamental that she hadn't known how much she'd relied on it until it had been torn away. Was she putting herself back together, after...? But every night she had the same panting, fruitless dreams, and every day waking was a struggle. At first the waking came screaming. Now it was like dragging herself through grey muck, forcing herself to get up and pass another day. Perhaps on the outside she seemed better. But she knew that some of them had to suspect. Julan... Julan, so close and so far away... she saw a look in his eyes sometimes that broke her heart.

So it was easier to come here and wait, where there were no eyes to turn away from. How many times could she put herself back together? How many times could she stitch up the wounds and hope they didn't tear apart again? _Have I ever been myself?_ But who was she? A prisoner? An Imperial agent? A Hero? A murderer? Nerevar? Or a little lost girl, curled upon beneath a burnt building, alone and afraid?

Llovesi sighed again. She felt as though she was right back to how she used to be, tormenting herself in prison with unanswerable questions. How many times had she turned the same thoughts over in her head? The metaphors had taken years to come, and they were just as worn and useless as the first time. Nothing. Nothing. Empty nothings.

Llovesi stood abruptly, shaking the flame away and returning the chamber to darkness. She began to walk back to the main living area, where the yurts had been pitched by the red stone walls, creating a mix of fabric and stone that had once seemed oddly comforting. Now it was just a brief respite. She needed to get away from the gloomy chamber, before the blackness began to press in on her. She found herself half wishing there was some new land she could escape too, somewhere where no one knew her name or past... but a walk outside would do for now, then maybe she could lose herself in fishing or weaving, or anything where her thoughts echoed less loudly.

She didn't noticed Julan until she smacked straight into him. Immediately they both jumped backwards, a little guarded. And there it was, that look in his eyes.

Julan broke the silence first. "Llovesi! I've been looking for you."

Llovesi crossed her arms over her chest, a touch defensively. "How come?" she asked.

"She's getting worse."

"Who?"

Julan looked at her as if she'd just sprouted an extra head. "Sinnammu," he said. "Mina and Ursha are trying all they can, but the fever keeps coming back. They think... it might be her age, it might be her time..."

His voice cracked, and Llovesi was suddenly overwhelmed by guilt. She crossed to Julan and took him in her arms. Of course it was Sinnammu. The wise woman had fallen sick a few weeks ago. At first they had thought it was a simple case of Rockjoint – her knuckles, elbows and knees were all swollen and painful. Painful, but normally treatable. Yet a series of potions had failed to work, and then the fever started. She had been bed-ridden for the past week and getting weaker. Perhaps it _was_ age. Sinnammu was older than most of the Ahemmusa, so old that she had outlived several of their Ashkhans. Death came to them all eventually. And not every disease was curable.

_I should say something_, Llovesi thought. But the words were sticking in her throat and her mouth had gone dry.

"I'm sorry," she managed.

She hugged him gingerly, and felt him shake in her arms. He was crying.

"It... it's just that Sinnammu... I've known her since I was just a kid. When me and Sha would set the shalk free, or, you know, try any of our stupid pranks, she would tell us off and... and she was the one that lifted my exile, that watched over all of us... she said I would make a great Ashkhan..."

"You are a great Ashkhan," Llovesi said, trying to sound soothing, hating how mechanical it came out. It was true though. Julan _was _good. Though still young and sometimes brash, he had an intelligence, passion and determination that had helped the Ahemmusa flourish – a far cry from the small band of survivors they had been, clinging to their corner of Vvardenfell's blighted coast. He didn't always wear the role easily, but he wore it with responsibility and a sense of hard-won experience.

Julan shrugged her off now, his eyes redder than usual, and tired fingers working his top knot loose so that his dark hair fell about his shoulders again.

"Ai, perhaps," he said wearily, "but how will I do it without her?"

"You'll be fine," Llovesi said, wishing she could offer more than her hollow words.

"And what about you?" Julan asked suddenly, reaching for her hand. "Will you be fine?"

"What?" Llovesi pulled her hand away. "There's nothing wrong with me."

"Yes there is. You were hiding. You've been hiding more and more lately. I thought things were getting better–"

"–Because they are."

"No, listen." His voice had taken on a new impatient tone, but that old look was back in his eyes. Pity.

Llovesi cut across him before he could speak again. "No, _you_ listen. Why can't you just let it go? Why can't you just leave me alone?"

She regretted the words as she was speaking, how childish she sounded, but they were out now, hanging between them.

Julan looked at her in disbelief. Then, perhaps in the face of her frustration, his own seemed to break free. "Because I _care_ about you," he said. "But it's like you don't care about the rest of us now. And I've tried _so_ hard to help you, but I can't help you if you just shut us all out!"

His words stuck like arrows, but Llovesi found she didn't have the strength to fight back. He was right. She just didn't know what to do any more.

"Why does it matter?" she said dully. "Why does any of it matter? Why did I do it all?" She waved a hand uselessly, trying to put into words what she felt about the land and the people she had tried to save. "So everyone could sleep soundly in their in beds, hating me."

"I didn't know you did it to be loved."

That stung like a slap. Llovesi felt tears prick her eyes slightly, and she sniffed furiously. Julan looked abashed, and tried to close the distance between them once more.

"I'm... sorry," he said. "Llovesi... they need you. _I_ need you."

"I don't do things to be loved," Llovesi said, and pushed her way past him.

* * *

><p><em>Plunk.<em>

The pebble dropped into the ocean with a deeply unsatisfying splash. Llovesi threw another one, and another, then a whole handful of sand and stones, burying her heads in her arms as it was swallowed by the waves.

Her cheeks were wet with tears, and suddenly she found she was letting herself cry: the great cloud of emptiness spilling over into great racking sobs. And still she felt so useless, so helpless, so... nothing.

Julan's words had hurt because they were true, and she still couldn't do anything about it. They also hurt because they had been Duke Vedam Dren's words, the words of those who still believed in the Nerevarine. The Duke had visited, in the new year that followed their return from Mournhold.

"They need you."

He had stood in the central chamber, looking curiously at the rugs and banners carefully placed over stone slabs and wound round pillars, looking even more curious himself: a bright, shiny jewel of ebony armour with a tight smile. She had been obliged to speak with him then, to acknowledge what had happened in Morrowind since the summer. She had already heard of Helseth, how he had indeed followed in his mother's footsteps and abdicated the throne, obliged Morrowind to return to council rule. He had begun campaigning with House Hlaalu to end slavery, or perhaps he had gone west as a diplomat to the Elder Council. Eventually she had stopped listening. But still the summons came, the invitations to meetings in Ebonheart, then the demands. And then the Duke came.

"I asked you to deliver my people," he began, once a private chamber had been found for them. "Instead, you abandon your posts; you threaten fragile political systems. You attack their faith; you strike fear and doubt into their hearts. You claim their gods are dead."

"They are dead."

The Duke had sighed then, and that was almost worse. His voice had taken on a paternal tone, far worse than his accusation.

"Does it matter? It may surprise you to learn that I am not a religious man. I do not claim to believe in the gods, nor understand them. But I understand faith. They need you."

"They don't need me," she had protested.

"They need the idea of you then. And you've taken it away from them."

"Which idea is that?" she had snapped back, her voice echoing around the chamber. "The idea of Llovesi? Or Nerevar?"

He had paused a moment, his mouth opening and closing, and it was all she needed.

"Leave me alone."

Amazingly, he had. And even though letters still came, she was left alone.

She had never felt so alone.

Her shoulders ceased shaking and her tears had dried on her face as Llovesi gazed out over the grey sea. What would it be like to just walk out under the waves, she wondered, and stay there? Would it hurt? Would it be better than this?

"Llovesi?" It was Julan. So he'd followed her out here. She glanced at him, then turned back to the ocean.

"Llovesi," he tried again, then came to sit next to her on the beach when she didn't respond. Together they looked out to sea for a while. Llovesi felt the same urge take her as before, to leave. She could even take Julan too, and it would be them against the world as it used to be, instead of mixed up in the world, where everything was grey and wrong.

"I hate arguing with you," Julan said finally. "Always did really. And saying sorry was so difficult. This time... it's different. It's difficult because I am sorry – sorry that I don't know how to help you. I really did think you were getting better."

She studied his face, and saw that familiar flicker. To her amazement, Llovesi found her lips curling slightly.

"You're lying," she said softly. "You always raise your eyebrows when you lie."

"Okay then, I _hoped_ you were getting better."

Llovesi was quiet for a long time. "I'm not sure this is the kind of thing that gets better," she said finally.

"I thought..." Julan began, tracing a pattern in the sand with a finger, "I thought, maybe you could go on a hunt with the warriors? That always seems to make you feel... Maybe it will just take time. It will do you good to get away from here for a bit. It's like the funeral's already begun."

His eyes looked wet again.

"It's for Sinnammu actually," he went on. "The hunt. They're going after Daedra in the Grazelands, to make an offering to the Gods and Ancestors. To ease her passing."

Llovesi couldn't speak.

Julan took her hand. "Do you remember what I said when I asked you to marry me?" he asked.

"I..."

"I said I would make you happy if it kills me. Ai... what happened to us, Llovesi? Forget all the rest of them, those settled s'wits. So what if they don't love you any more? I always will."

"Julan..." Llovesi choked, fresh tears threatening to appear. "Julan, I... I'll go. I'll go on the hunt. For Sinnammu. For you."

* * *

><p>But she couldn't. When the time came, and Llovesi was strapping on her armour with the rest of the hunters, she found her hands trembled and her head was spinning. Blind panic seemed to crush her, choke her. She would have to go out with them, talk, help keep up morale... and she couldn't do it. As soon as she was certain no one was looking at her, straggling at the back if the group, she ducked away and headed back towards the camp.<p>

Where could she go? Even the landscape seemed to be hemming her in: the waves crashing on the shore shouting 'stay back!' the red stone pillars of Ald Daedroth whispering 'keep away!' Without really knowing why, she found her feet drawn to the yurt on the beach. Sinnammu had requested to sleep near the waves. She liked the sound, and the feel of the salty breeze stealing through the hide walls.

The yurt flap was drawn back, allowing the pale sunshine of the winter afternoon to fall upon the sleeping figure. Minabibi Assardarainat was sitting by Sinnammu's side, holding a limp hand and whispering softly in Dunmeris, her voice a trickling stream to the backdrop of the waves against the shore. Llovesi wasn't surprised to see her keeping vigil: the Dunmer had been training as a wise woman for the past few years, and so was Sinnammu Mirpal's most constant companion. Yet for all their closeness, the differences between the two women were stark. Where Sinnammu was drained, almost paper-thin, Minabibi was round-cheeked and glowing. Her messy auburn curls were piled up on her head, while Sinnammu's hair flowed fine and silver over the pillow. Even Minabibi's eccentricities differed: she was sympathetic to western interests, and fashions, something over which she and Sinnammu had butted heads in in the past. Today she wore a large woven Ashland shirt over fitted pants that wouldn't look out of place in Pelagiad. Llovesi remembered that some members of the camp were ill at ease with the concept of Minabibi as their wise woman, but it was a relief to see her there. Minabibi was nothing if not loyal and warm-hearted. She turned as Llovesi entered, but she didn't leave Sinnammu's side, nor did she stop holding her hand.

"She's sleeping," Minabibi said, her voice matter-of-fact and but not unkind. "She likes to hear about the camp as she falls into slumber..."

"Half-right." The whisper made them both jump. Sinnammu had spoken, her voice a rattle in her throat. Her eyes stayed closed, and her body stayed still but she spoke, slowly and quietly. "I cannot sleep lately, though I do not fault you for trying to bring me comfort, child... Yet I do desire tales from the camp. I have been of the Ahemmusa since birth, and I will be of the Ahemmusa long after my death, when I shall return to the ancestors to watch over you all. Ald Daedroth will be my resting place, though it shall not be yours... Come closer, Llovesi."

Llovesi still hadn't said a word, and when she opened her mouth she found she was quite incapable. A strange mood hung in the air as she walked over to the bed as if in a dream. Minabibi retreated a few steps, though did not leave the yurt.

Up close the sheen of sweat covered Sinnammu face, settling into the folds of her paling skin. She radiated heat, though Llovesi could see her shivering beneath the covers of the bedroll. Her eyelids fluttered almost frenetically, as if her eyes were rolling beneath. Every breath was so slight it was almost imperceptible, were it not for the deep wheezing rattle that accompanied each inhalation. Llovesi suddenly realised why she had not visited this place, where death hung in the air. She was afraid.

"There you are," Sinnammu continued in her labouring whisper. "Do not be fearful. I know how it must seem, to you who has seen sudden death in all its violent forms, to watch me go slowly. But I accept it. Worry not for me."

There was a small shuffle and a sniff behind them. Llovesi turned to see Minabibi choking back sobs. She turned back to the bedroll.

"Powerless," she muttered. "That's how I feel. But something else too... I don't know. I can't save you. I'm no good at saving anyone. All I can do is destroy."

Sinnammu's whisper seemed to take on something of her old sharpness, if only for a moment. "You know that is not true."

There was a pause.

"You are ill too, child, though your sickness is not fatal." Sinnammu raised the hand that hand previously lain limp by her side and raised it to Llovesi's forehead. Her touch was hot and clammy, but Llovesi didn't jerk back. She had just voiced thoughts that she had never thought she would say aloud. Sinnammu had a way of reducing everyone to honesty around her. Finally, she took her hand away from Llovesi's head. "You will live."

"How did you know it was me here?" Llovesi asked. "Without me even saying anything?"

"Because I knew that the first time you came would also be the last. I knew that you would visit me here, the day I die."

There was no sound in the yurt. Llovesi turned again to see Minabibi still crying, but her face displaying no shock. _She knew_, Llovesi realised. And Julan, had Julan known too, when he came to find her? _Am I the only one who wasn't told?_ A smaller, more caustic and entirely more honest part of self replied: _Of course. You haven't been here_.

Sinnammu began to talk again, but the effort of sustaining conversation had drained her voice to the barest whisper. "As I said, this island will be my resting place. But it will not be the Ahemmusa's. We are, by nature... nomadic. But more than that, in the coming years we will have to leave, to go on... I have seen..."

She did not continue.

"What?" Llovesi asked, growing more concerned by the minute. She knew wise women's visions were nothing to be scoffed at. "What have you seen?"

Sinnammu did not reply, and instead her shivering worsened. Minabibi came to Llovesi's side and took up Sinnammu's hand again, placing two fingers on the inside of her wrist.

"What has she seen, Mina?" Llovesi asked her urgently.

"I don't know," Minabibi replied with a slight frown. "This is the first time she's mentioned such things. Llovesi, maybe you should–"

"–Yes, leave you shall." The interruption was as sudden as it was expected and the two kneeling women jumped. Sinnammu's eyes were open now, and they seemed to radiate as much heat as the rest of her body. "Journeys to be made, journeys to be finished. Strengths to be tried and tested."

"She's normally clearer than this," Minabibi whispered. "It's the fever... she's losing herself."

The shivering subsided, and Sinnammu turned her head slowly to face them, shifting slow as stone. She spoke one word, strong and clear, her voice ringing out like it used to:

"North."

It was the last thing she ever said. Llovesi and Minabibi sat, as the hours moven on without them noticing, watching Sinnammu sleep, or what passed for it. Her chest rose and fell, but her eyes had closed again and her lips were softly parted for each ragged, pained breath, not for speech.

As the light in the yurt deepened from gold, to amber, to ruby, Sinnammu's chest stilled. She left them so quietly that neither Llovesi nor Minabibi noticed, not until footsteps from outside caused them to look up.

Julan stood there. His face was half in shadow as the sunset, but Llovesi could see the muscles in his face working strangely as if he was trying to suppress some emotion. The way his jaw clenched, the tightness of his lips, his blinking... he looked on the very brink of tears. Next to Llovesi, Minabibi laid her shaking hand on Sinnammu's neck, then put her head on her chest.

"She's gone," she said finally, in a voice ready to break.

The waves crashed on the beach around them for a moment, and then Julan stepped into the yurt.

"I know," he said thickly.

Llovesi was about to ask why, how, when the question died on her lips. Behind Julan, Nibani Maesa was walking into the yurt.

"I am deeply sorry for your loss," she said. "Knowing that my words cannot help ease the sadness of Sinnammu Mirpal's passing. She was wise and judicious leader for many years. Though I met her only a few times, I know how her absence will hurt."

Llovesi's head was swimming. She didn't know which question to ask first, her own face was starting to ache holding back tears, and she felt very weary.

Minabibi spoke up instead, standing as she did: "I do not know you," she said. "But you have spoken kindly of Sinnammu and you walk in the company of our Ashkhan, so I know you are no enemy. What business do you have with the Ahemmusa?"

Nibani gave the younger Dunmer an appraising look, but Minabibi returned it unflinchingly.

"So," Nibani said. "You are the new wise woman of the Ahemmusa?"

"I..." Minabibi glanced at Julan briefly, then at Sinnamu. "Yes. I am."

"Then it is to you I must speak first. Alone, if I may."

For a second Llovesi felt like protesting, but Julan turned and left the yurt, so she followed him instead.

"How did she know?" she asked, once they were standing on the beach once again.

Julan stared out over the ocean, his hair stirring in the breeze, looking as pale and drawn as she felt.

"I don't know," he said quietly. "She found me inside and told me... that it had happened. Told me she had something important to say, concerning the future of our camp."

"And she came all the way from the Urshilaku? Alone?" Llovesi shook her head. It made no sense. But Sinnammu's words hadn't made much sense either, and they were just as foreboding.

"No, Sul-Matuul sent one of his gulakhans to guard her. Which means he knows. Which means this is important." He fidgeted slightly. "You didn't go on the hunt."

It wasn't a question, but neither was it accusatory. Llovesi felt herself slump. The afternoon had pushed all defensiveness, fear and guilt out of her. Her emptiness had been filled with fatigue.

"I've been a fool, Julan," she said. "I've been hiding away because... it was easier than accepting something was wrong. No, not that, but that I had to try and do something. And now, with Sinnammu... I just feel like the biggest fool." She found herself close to tears again, but Julan's arms were open and then wrapping around her as her voice shook and her body shook harder.

"Hey, hey. You're not a fool. Don't say that. You've just... been through a lot."

"So have you," Llovesi said with a sniff.

"Yeah, and I didn't always deal with it in the best way, did I? Remember all the times I stormed off to get drunk? Or my fantastic cave tantrum?"

That raised a slight smile on both their lips.

"But I am going to look after you," he continued, rubbing the small of her back. "Because you need it, and because I want to."

"And the camp's going to need looking after too," Llovesi mumbled in reply. She pulled back from Julan's arms suddenly. "That reminds me, Sinnammu said–"

A polite cough from behind interrupted her, and they both turned round. Minabibi and Nibani stood there, the former looking agitated, the latter sombre.

"We have to talk about the future of the Ahemmusa," Nibani said. "And of this land we all share. Your future, and the future of your people. I have come to you because of what I saw two weeks ago. I saw you, I saw all of us, on an island to the–"

"North," Llovesi whispered, frowning. "That's what Sinnammu said. She said this wouldn't be our home forever. But why north? What's north of here?"

"A place called Solstheim," Nibani replied. "And if I've have seen you there, there must be a reason. Please, travel to this place. Learn its land, its history, its people, if there are any. We know nothing, have nothing, save this old map."

She held it out, yellowing and crumpled, and Llovesi took it. She felt an old rush in the pit of her stomach, that long forgotten feeling. The call to adventure. Was it right to feel this way, at this moment?

"You know what this means?" Julan asked, as Llovesi glanced over the map. His voice was uneasy. "It means leaving the camp."

"That's why Nibani spoke to me first," Minabibi said. She still looked scared and upset, but she stood tall and her fists were balled. "I understand what must happen, and I am prepared to lead the Ahemmusa in the few weeks of your absence, as Sinnammu did before me. We must attend to her burial rites, then make preparations for your departure."

Julan glanced at Llovesi as her eyes traced Solstheim's rivers and mountains. She didn't need the old telepathy rings to know he felt uncertain and suspicious about this. And why not? It was all very sudden. She folded the map up carefully. Hadn't she been thinking about what it would be like to leave Vvardenfell?

"All right," she said. "We'll go. We better speak with the gulakhans, Julan."

Minabibi and Nibani watched as Llovesi and Julan walked back to Ald Daedroth, talking in low voices. Minabibi felt her mind all of a blur, shaken by the whirlwind of the past few hours. What had happened, and what she had learnt.

"And she can know none of the rest?" she whispered to Nibani. "You're... absolutely certain?"

Nibiani turned to her, and looked her up and down. Minabibi shivered. The older wise woman could be intimidating, seemingly without even realising it.

"It is her blessing and her curse," she replied. "If she knew, she would not go, and this is the way it must happen. I am afraid she must remain ignorant of the role she is to play in this nation's history."

She turned, and followed in Llovesi and Julan's footsteps, indicating with a small gesture that Minabibi should follow.

And she did, for better or worse, her heart full of wonder and fear as the blood red sun finally slipped below the horizon.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **This chapter, though. I've wrestled with it, rewritten it at least twice, gone back and edited again... I'm not sure I can put the time it took to produce down to writer's block so much as 'edit-itis'. It wasn't the easiest thing to write, and the subject matter wasn't always the easiest thing to find words for. So I hope it's good enough, and hopefully the next chapter won't be quite so long in coming.


	4. Sea, Land, and Sky

**A/N: Hello, welcome, and thank you to those who are reading and reviewing along the way! Thanks to fluttershy9410 for your review, and thank you too to 'Guest', even though I'm not entirely sure how to respond to what you wrote! Look, I have a so far unspoken policy that I'll always publish guest reviews (within reason - keep it clean guys) because freedom of speech is a wonderful thing, and it means I can respond here. But, you normally have to give me a little more to go on than three letters and a couple of punctuation marks! Still, it's nice to hear from people no matter what they have to say! Now, on with the story...**

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><p><em><strong>Chapter 3: Sea, Land, and Sky <strong>_

_Funny_, Llovesi thought, _how often change in life is marked by a boat_._ Not just any kind of travel, but boats._ She twisted uncomfortably in the bedroll, trying and failing to find a better position on the planks of wood. _It's the sea itself probably. It takes so long to cross the fetching thing that you have time to realise the coming change before it leaps up on you. Time enough to wonder if you're doing the right thing._

She sat up and twisted round to look at the hull again. The sounds of the sea were all about them down here in this wooden cocoon. It was gloomy, barely lit by a single glass lantern that was thick with dust, and cramped too. The bedrolls strewn haphazardly between crates and barrels were obviously a recent addition, despite their musty fabric and general aged appearance. Had she and Julan known what awaited them below deck they might have made the longer journey down to Ebonheart to search for an Imperial chartered ship, rather than relying on a Khajiit looking to make a quick septim. But Khuul was on the north-western-most point of Vvardenfell, closest to Solstheim, and it had a port, albeit a small one. So they had taken their chances and had got lucky, if you could call it that, on a boat that was too small to properly be called a ship. At least it was warm.

Llovesi's eye fell on the packs between her and Julan. She hoped the small hide tent they contained would be enough to keep them warm at night where they were going, or at least dry. As for their clothes... they had resorted to wearing as many layers as they could, topped by light leather armour. Furs were not commonplace on Vvardenfell, where it was rarely cold enough to warrant such protection. They had managed to find a couple of old woollen cloaks in Lanabi's stores, at least. Llovesi wrapped hers around her now as she wondered, yet again, if they really were doing the right thing. The sane thing. They knew know that there was a fort on Solstheim, and that meant potentially getting mixed up in Imperial business again, something she'd been hoping to avoid. _We promised_, she thought grimly, and clutched her cloak about her throat.

A promise based on what though? A vision? _A certainty_, Nibani had said as they left her when they passed back through the Urshilaku. They weren't chasing prophecies this time, or caught in a centuries-old grudge. But still... _**Your work in Morrowind is not finished...**_ She hadn't forgotten the words, or their meaning. As far as some people were concerned, as far as a certain Daedric Prince was concerned, the Nerevarine prophecy was far from fulfilled. And, if she was honest, Llovesi wasn't sure what to feel about that. The events in Mournhold had dissuaded her from the role of Hero, a role she had once tried to fulfil. She had just tried to survive, but she had always...

"I just want to do what's right," she mumbled aloud, cross at how her thoughts seemed to circle with no purpose. The flickering lantern cast her frown into deep shadows.

"Mmh?" Julan stirred next to her. For a moment it seemed as if he would drop off to sleep again, then he yawned and stretched until his joints clicked, before pushing himself upright.

"You should get some sleep," he said in a low voice. "We'll probably get there in the morning."

"I know, I know, and after two days down here it will be more than welcome," Llovesi said, addressing her fingers as she twisted them unconsciously. "I just... I've been thinking. Thinking about if this is right."

Julan took her hand gently, and slipped his other arm round her shoulders. "I wondered the same," he said. "But I guess it is my duty as Ashkhan to do what's best for my tribe, and if that means exploring this place just in case, then fine. But you're part of the tribe too. It means you get a say in our future. Do you think this is a good idea?"

Llovesi rested her head against Julan's neck, glad for his comfort. "It's more than that," she admitted. "The past few years I've been feeling so trapped and guilty, and wondering who to blame. The Tribunal? Azura? Then I realised, what I've done, it's down to me. My shame is mine, and mine alone. That's why I want what's right and best for all of us."

"You know," Julan whispered, squeezing her shoulder, "sometimes things just... happen. And there's no reason for it. The Daedra _can_ be selfish s'wits. The Tribunal _were_. You shouldn't blame yourself for everything that's happened."

"We've always lived under the shadows of our past," Llovesi said slowly, staring at their entwined hands. "You of your father, me of Nerevar. Now we're acting for the future. And that's, that's a little scary. What if we find out who we really are on Solstheim?"

"Ha!" The loud, brittle and, above all, humourless laugh broke across both of them, making them jump. Llovesi squinted into the gloom to see a pair of red eyes staring back. The Dunmer moved forward on his bedroll slightly. His faced was covered with dark tattoos, his expression unreadable. Llovesi blushed, wondering how long he had been listening in. She hadn't realised any one else was awake.

"Ha!" he said this time, and draped an arm casually over his knee. "You think you're going to find yourself on Solstheim? It's not a place for self-discovery, sister."

"I'm not your sister," Llovesi said crossly, while Julan exchanged his own glare with the other man. "Who are _you_, anyway?"

"Just a down-and-out miner, looking for new opportunities," the man said. "And if there's anything those blighted Imperials have taught us, it's that new lands breed new opportunities. Isn't that right, sister?"

Llovesi and Julan glanced at each other, unsure of how to respond, or even if they should.

"Nothing to say?" the Dunmer drawled. "I'm sure your story is far more interesting than mine. Who knows, perhaps we'll all discover ourselves in the damned snow." He laughed again, the harsh noise reverberating strangely in the wooden hull. Llovesi was surprised the other passengers were still sleeping. Or maybe they were all listening in too.

"It's a harsh land, I've heard. Harsher even than the blighted fires of Red Mountain, if you can believe it. No supplies there! No proper settlements! Just snow and beasts!"

"There's the colony, though." His companion, another Dunmer with a slim face, a neat black beard and a quiet voice, had sat up.

"Ah yes, the colony," the first man said casually, as if the thought hadn't even occurred to him. "I guess some of us will be braving the beasts. All the ebony we can mine, after all."

He raised his hand, placed his thumb against his fingers, and rubbed them together slowly all the while smirking at Llovesi and Julan as the shadows flickered about the crates and bedrolls.

"Isn't it time we took something back from those Imperial f'lahs?"

Llovesi and Julan glanced at each other uneasily, and chose to lie back down and try to sleep. All the while, the sea moved round them as the small ship bore them ever onwards to the land of snow and beasts.

* * *

><p>"Mooring up!"<p>

"Haul!"

"Lower the anchor!"

The cries, though muffled, woke Llovesi almost instantly. She shivered in her blankets. The boat's rocking had lessened and there was a new coolness to the air. They had arrived.

She pulled herself to her feet, stamping out the cramp in her legs and ducking so not to hit her head on the low curving side of the boat. Next to her Julan was rubbing his eyes and pulling on his boots. All around them the other passengers were blearily packing up bedrolls and collecting their belongings.

The trapdoor above flew open with a bang, and S'virr's orange-furred face appeared in the grey light.

"Hurry, hurry," he rasped, spitting his favourite word down at them.

They shuffled as one up the rickety steps, onto the deck and into the fierce cold, past S'virr and his ship hands and down to the stone dock. An Argonian man leant against the mooring posts, finishing with the ropes. His eyes were not focused on his hands' work at all, instead he was staring them all down as they descended.

"More lost souls for Solstheim?" he asked, and gave a creaking chuckle. "Welcome, welcome, to the jewel of absolutely nowhere, warmbloods. Get out while you still can."

With that, he left the ropes loose, turned on his heel and strolled away up the hill. Llovesi followed him with her gaze and noticed the large, grey fort emerging from the mist in front of them. Grey stones, grey sky, grey sea. She shivered and turned to see the boat hauling the ropes back, pulling up anchor and rowing back out to sea.

The small group huddled together on the stone dock. An unspoken consensus seemed to suggest they were waiting, though for what they weren't entirely sure. Llovesi could see their fellow passengers properly for the first time in days. There was the Dunmer with the harsh laugh, his brown hair lank and his dark tattoos somehow even blacker in the light of day. He stood to one side of the group with the other Dunmer man and a round-faced, silent Imperial. Then, to Llovesi and Julan's right, there stood three men, each as surly as the other: an Orc, a Redguard and another Imperial.

It was cold, even colder than she had expected, and they were at the southernmost point on the island here. The icy breeze pinched her fingers and cheeks, stole beneath her cloak and clothes to freeze her limbs and whipped her braids about her face. Her breath puffed out in chill clouds, her throat already feeling raw. She shuffled closer to Julan, who was blowing on his fingers with a despondent expression.

"Sh-sh-sheogorath's teeth, it's freezing!" he whispered, breaking the silence. The other passengers glanced at him, but no one spoke. Even the Dunmer with the harsh laugh, who had been so eager to bait them on-board the boat, was quiet now. Everyone was looking around, but in the casual kind of way that indicated they didn't want to seem too interested in their surroundings. The land sloped up before them, brown with sparse patches of grass, until it met the fresh-cut stone of the fort, squat, bleak and formidable with two Imperial flags mounted on its walls flapping forlornly in the wind. Either side of the small stone dock it sloped downwards into the murky tide, curving round into an inlet to the right of the fort and sweeping southwest to its left. Spiky green trees of the kind Llovesi had only ever seen in books dotted the landscape behind the fort, grouping into a dense, dark green mass on the hills the to distance. And beyond that, there were mountains, white and far, higher than any on Vvardenfell. But here, on the shore, the land was bare and stony.

The Argonian was returning now, a flustered Imperial clerk struggling to keep up with his loping strides. From what Llovesi could see he was young, struggling with a sack and a sheaf of papers, and had an expression on his face that suggested he wished he could be anywhere else in the world. Much like the Argonian, come to think of it. Llovesi stuck her hand in her pockets and wondered for what was probably the hundredth time if coming to Solstheim had been wise. What could there possibly be for the Ashlanders on this frigid rock?

The pair had reached them now, and the young man dropped the sack and wiped his forehead, glistening despite the cold air, with a gloved hand.

"Right, who's here to sign up?" he asked in a voice that couldn't seem to decide if it wanted to be bright or weary.

The three surly men to Llovesi and Julan's right glanced at each other and reluctantly raised their hands. The clerk made a few notes on his piece of paper, and kicked the sack as he did so.

"Uniforms are in there, and if there's nothing in your size see Zeno in the armoury later... didn't realise there was a ship coming at this time... by the Nine, as if I don't have enough on my plate. Good thing Basks-In-The-Sun thought to fetch someone. Thank you." He tossed this afterthought over his shoulder to the grumpy Argonian.

"If you want to thank me, warmblood, smith me a pair of boots for my next pay," the Argonian replied mournfully, watching the men rifle through the sack and squabble over the least dented bits of armour. "Nice warm ones, with fur linings. My name has never been less fitting."

"When's the ship for the colony coming?" a loud voice cut in. It was the Dunmer from before. He was scowling now, making his facial tattoos look even more formidable.

The clerk looked baffled. "I know nothing about that," he said.

"There was meant to be a ship to take us to Raven Rock. That's what that cat said, when we got on in Khuul."

"Look, perhaps you'd better come up to the fort and speak with Carnius Magius..."

Llovesi and Julan drew away from the discussion to check the map and decide what their next steps would be. So, there was a colony as well as a fort. No mention of a 'Raven Rock' on the map, though, but of course the fort was absent there too.

"Where shall we go first?" Julan asked huddling close and peering over the map. "Maybe we should head up to the fort and see if they have warmer clothes to trade. Though that means Imperials. Ugh."

The Dunmer's voice cut over him loudly, growing more impertinent by the minute.

"We haven't spent two fetching days in a cramped boat to waste our time with blighting busybodies and jobsworths," he was saying hotly, while his companions stared at their feet. "We're signed up with the EEC and we're here to mine!"

"What's the EEC?" Julan whispered.

"The East Empire Company," Llovesi replied. "You know, responsible for the Empire's trading interests in the eastern provinces. Think Caldera and that sort of thing."

"Ugh," Julan said, with a half-amused grimace. "Imperials."

The clerk was shrugging behind them, in a way that suggested his work there was done. He turned and walked back up to the fort, the three new recruits trudging in his steps. The loud-mouthed Dunmer was throwing his hands up in theatrical disgust as his quieter companions watched the clerk's retreating back.

Julan tilted his head at the map. "You know," he said, "half of me just wants to head back and tell Mina that there's nothing here that could be worth it. Snow and Imperials. What could be worse? But then, the other half–"

"You! Ashlanders!"

They looked up.

"Ah," Llovesi said dryly. "Our friend from the boat."

The tattooed Dunmer had walked over. "Ashlanders," he said, though the look in his eyes seemed to suggest he had a fairly good idea of who he was actually addressing. "You've got a map. I bet you know how to track the land. And protect yourselves. Our escort's done us the courtesy of not showing up. Perhaps you'd be willing to take his place."

It was just arrogant enough to not be a request. But it solved their dilemma of where to go. The question of what to do and whether to stay was resolved between Llovesi and Julan with a glance.

"The other half of me," Julan finished in a whisper so that only Llovesi could hear, "misses adventure."

Llovesi smiled and thrust the map at the other man.

"Where is it?" she asked. He craned his neck at the piece of parchment then jabbed a grubby finger at an inlet northwest of the coast where they had landed.

"Here," he said. "Or roundabout from what I can recall. We're bound to hear it before we see it anyway; they haven't finished building the place."

"Then let's go," Julan said. He swung his pack down from his shoulders, and pulled his sword, bow and quiver out, slinging the former onto his belt and the latter onto his back. Llovesi knelt down, and took out her swords carefully. The twin blades: Hopesfire and Trueflame. She hesitated slightly as she lifted them up. Two years, and she hadn't drawn them, had tried to avoid even looking at them. But it felt right to have them with her now. She fastened them at each hip with a kind of slow reverence.

The Dunmer man whistled as he took in the custom made sheathes and the outlandish curve of the swords, but when he opened his mouth, all he said was:

"Are we ready to move now? This place is colder than a mabrigash's tit, and I'd rather not wait around until my knackers fall off."

"Charming," Llovesi murmured, then louder: "Ready."

"Good. So, we all voted," the man said, gesturing to himself and the others, "and we think you two should take the lead. We're all handier with a pick than a blade, and we don't have any picks handy. And who knows what lurks in the forest."

"What does lurk in the forest?" Julan asked suspiciously.

The man grinned, a white flash in his dark face. "Oh, bears and wolves probably. Maybe witches, trolls and berserkers too. Not good for defenceless miners."

Llovesi had to fight from rolling her eye, whereas as Julan made no such effort. Still, they shouldered their packs, turned and set off.

* * *

><p>The hike was slow glowing, slower than any they remembered from their travels round Vvardenfell. Part of it was the wind, picking them up, dragging them down and raking them with its icy fingers, heavy packs and clothes all. At least the air was clear from rain or snow, but white clouds shielded the sun from view, making navigation even more difficult. Every hour or so of walking, sometimes more frequently, they had to stop, compare the map with landmarks and ensure they were still on the right course. The ground was hard and unyielding, the land rough and untravelled, and soon the way was made even more laborious as the land rose and they found themselves picking their way through dense forest and up and down hidden hills. The Hirstaang Forest, according to the map.<p>

Llovesi found herself almost glad she wasn't draped in furs like the men trailing in her and Julan's footsteps. Her face was flushed and her shins were on fire. Before Mournhold, she had kept herself fit through regular jogs and training. After, she had been lucky if she found the strength of will to leave the yurt. She curled her hand into a fist pensively. Supposing she couldn't even swing a sword any more?

_I'm weak again_.

The thought made her afraid. She had spent a great majority of her life being weak, and it wasn't a state to which she wished to return. At least the forest was quiet though. The tattooed Dunmer's stories had put her on edge, Julan too; if the way he kept his fingers curled round the grip of his bow were any indication. But the man and his companions were silent behind them, and the trees too. Every now and then they passed strange stones, carved arches and pillars, perhaps old ruins. These they gave a wide berth. Any hidden dangers were remaining that way.

They stopped around midday, or as near as they could tell with the sun a faint glow above, to rest their legs and eat some provisions in a small forest clearing. Julan brushed frost off a fallen log as Llovesi pulled their water skin, a small loaf of bread and some leathery scrib jerky from their pack.

The other men found their own places to rest, and pulled their own provisions out of pockets and packs. They seemed just as disinclined to join in conversation as before. But no – the tattooed Dunmer was strolling over. _Probably feels it's been far too long since anyone last heard his voice_, Llovesi thought as her teeth worked the jerky.

"So," the Dunmer said as he approached. "If the journey is going to take this long, I figured we might as well get to know each other. As travelling companions."

Llovesi swallowed slowly and looked him up and down.

"Cagey, eh?" he continued. "That's fine too."

"Ha!" Julan said, mimicking the Dunmer's laugh from the boat. "You think we're cagey? How about your friends over there? I don't think I've heard them speak all morning."

"Ha!" The man laughed back. "You're right there! Perhaps I talk enough for the whole fetching lot of us!" He winked, then lowered his voice conspiratorially: "I think they're afraid of you." He jerked his head towards Llovesi. "Afraid of your pretty face."

Llovesi's hand was halfway to her scars before she realised and dropped it back into her lap. The casual comment had stung. The people of the Ahemmusa were so used to her appearance now that any looks or double takes were a thing of the past. Sometimes, Llovesi even forgot herself that she was disfigured. She had her little strategies for dealing with the blind side, she rarely looked upon mirrors, and she hadn't met anyone new who cared to comment in the couple of few years. Most people saw the Nerevarine before they saw her anyway. The Nerevarine was scarred and she, Llovesi, was apart from it.

She glanced over at the two other men and, sure enough, they were staring, though they quickly turned away when they saw her looking back. Julan's hand hovered near the blade at his hip, something the Dunmer man couldn't fail to miss.

"Easy, brother," he said. "I'm not afraid. Takes more than a bit of scarring to upset me. And, to tell you the truth, they're afraid of me too. We're more companions of circumstance than friends."

He lowered his voice even further. "Want to know why I'm so down on my luck?"

"I guess you're going to tell us anyway," Julan said, stuffing his hands back in his pockets grumpily.

"Ha! Well, I killed a man. Back in the mines. And they didn't fancy letting me stick around after that. Solstheim's just the place for me. That fort? Half of them are criminals and rapists, the other half just upset the wrong person and found themselves reassigned. You displease the blighted Empire, this–" he opened his arms in an all-encompassing gesture "–is where you end up. Some of us just happen to have the Daedra-damned sense to recognise a chance, and take it."

Llovesi snorted in disbelief. "You think you're really tough, don't you? You talk a fine game, I give you that."

The man grinned widely. "Oh yes. The finer the game, the less likely it is that they notice the knife in their ribs. And I do think I'm tough. But so are you. Tough woman, tough man. You've seen some stuff. Done some stuff too. And if you've never killed a man for your own ends, then I'm the blighted wrath of Sithis!"

_What_, Llovesi thought.

He stuck his hand out suddenly. "Gidar Verothan. I think we'll get on just fine. And my companions back there are Gamin and Sabinus. They don't say much, you're right."

Llovesi shook his hand gingerly, then Julan. Gidar gave them an appraising look, then sat down next to them on the log.

"I've told you my story," he said. "Why are you here?"

Llovesi exchanged a wry smile with Julan. "A wise woman told us to come," she said.

Gidar let out a hoot of laughter that seemed to contain genuine amusement. "Blood of my ancestors!" he exclaimed. "You're even stranger than I thought! Well, as long as you get us all to Raven Rock, I guess no one's complaining." He threw them one last amused look, then stretched his legs and sauntered back over to Gamin and Sabinus.

"Well," Llovesi said after a pause. "He's... interesting."

"He's madder than Sheogorath," Julan said with a snort. "The Imperials in this colony are going to love him."

His expression changed from amused to troubled in the space of the sentence.

"What is it?" Llovesi asked.

"You know how I feel about Imperials."

Llovesi nodded. Julan had once shared the knee-jerk indignation of all young Dunmer faced with the colonisation of Vvardenfell, an understandable reaction that had expanded into outright hatred of all things and people Imperial. Julan had mellowed over the years, perhaps in part faced with Llovesi who was herself technically Imperial. But he still strongly resented the presence of the Empire on the island, and the history of their treatment of the Dunmer people, Ashlanders especially.

"I know they've done... "good" things, like expanding trade, getting rid of the Commona Tong and, I don't know, _roads_, I can see that now. Being Ashkhan, I've had to see it. But they still did all that stuff for their own gain, and when they leave Morrowind, because they will, eventually, where will that leave us? Where will it leave our people? Caldera's already full of corruption, what will it be like when the Great Houses are fighting over it? I just... what if we end up helping establish the same sort of thing here? How will that help anyone back home? Who even lives on this frozen rock, anyway? We don't even know who the Imperials are colonising this time..."

He pulled the map between them thoughtfully, and traced the land with a finger.

"There must be someone living here," he muttered.

Solstheim was a small island, unevenly bisected by a long river from the north to south. The cartographer had represented the way the forest shifted the taiga and tundra, the mountains and the large glacier that covered the north-western tip. Here and there, place names had been written in small, elegant hand: 'Hirstaang Forest', 'Lake Fjalding', 'Thirsk', 'Skaal'.

"Here," Julan said, his finger tapping between the last two. "They've drawn little huts. There must be people here."

"'Skaal'," Llovesi said, testing the long vowels in her mouth. "Sounds Nordic."

"Oh, great." Julan rolled his eyes. "Imperials and Nords. And we thought being caught between Almalexia and Helseth was bad."

Llovesi was amazed to hear herself laugh. _Getting better..._ "We'd better get going," she said, glancing over at the group of miners. "We're further north here and it will be darker sooner. I do not like the idea of going through this forest in the dark."

* * *

><p>Sure enough, night soon fell swiftly and heavily, like a thick cloak thrown over the feeble sun.<p>

Sabinus and Gamin protested as Llovesi and Gidar built a fire, speaking up for the first time to say that they were so close, why couldn't they finish the journey?

"You fancy walking on in the dark, be our guests," Julan grumbled, sorting through his arrows. "We've been walking all day, if something attacked, who knows how well we could come to your defence. You'd be dead before you finished screaming."

It was harsh, but it had the desired effect. The men, cowed, starting pulling bedrolls from their packs as Julan slipped off into the trees.

A wolf howled somewhere in the distance. The powerful sound made Llovesi shiver, even as the fire burst into life under her hands.

Gidar looked on in admiration. "I could never make the fetching magical stuff catch," he said. "Always burns out after a while. That's some skill you've got there."

Two tents were pitched near the fire by the time Julan returned, a few rabbits dangling from his belt.

The air was soon filled with the scent of cooking meat, the plume of smoke rising up to the sky. No stars could be seen down here in their clearing; the firs around them blocked out most of the sky and the thick, dark clouds did the rest.

"Won't this attract wolves?" Sabinus asked, his round face worried.

"The fire should keep them away," Julan said, poking at it. But he exchanged a worried look with Llovesi. Neither of them knew if that was true. The only encounters they'd ever had with wolves had been in books. And from the faces of the other men, they weren't that reassured either.

They piled dry branches high on the fire to keep it burning for as long as possible before crawling into their tents. Llovesi and Julan removed only removed their outermost layer of clothing, before falling to their bedrolls and shivering beneath the entirely too thin blanket.

"Here." Julan pulled her close to him with cold hands, slipping them under her shirt and round her waist. But his body was warm enough, and she put her own hands on him, eliciting a gasp.

"Sorry," Llovesi said, her nose so close to his she could feel his breath tickle. "This isn't going to be fun, is it?"

"When is anything we do much fun? Hopefully it will be worth it. And we'll make our own fun, like we always have."

He smiled, and his hand slipped lower beneath the blanket.

* * *

><p>Llovesi was woken in the morning not by the light of day, but some new chill and a sense of stillness in the world outside. The tent was bowing at the sides, as if something heavy had settled on it during the night.<p>

She extracted herself from Julan's arms carefully, and pulled on her boots and outer layers. Then, she opened the tent flap to discover the cold day lying beyond.

Snow. It covered everything, from the tents, to the fire, long snuffed out, to the branches of the trees above them. It lay thick and crisp on the ground, and it was still falling softly from the sky in thick, fluffy flakes.

Llovesi laughed slightly, surprising herself, and spread her arms wide. _Snow_. She hadn't seen snow since it had covered the white cobbles and green-tiled roofs of the Imperial City, in the winters of her childhood. She could be that girl now, again, twirling in the wonder of a world turned white.

She forgot the cold, forgot the past and the future, forgot the men in the other tent as she stumbled forward. Flakes settled wetly in her braids, as she shook them free gleefully. Part of her didn't want to disturb the perfection before her, the other part wanted to throw herself into it. The white powder lay in thick drifts on the floor of the clearing, where it sparkled in the pale light of the sun. Her legs sunk into it as high as her calves, each step made with a satisfying crunch. The fir trees were dark shapes against the cold brilliance of the snow. It blanketed all, cleansed all, made all peaceful.

She fell to her knees, ignoring the cold wetness seeping into her clothes, and scooped a handful with her bare hands. It even smelt cool and fresh. Each little crystal was perfection and peace, and she wanted to bear witness to every one.

Solstheim was home to colonising Imperials, a fort full of criminals, and forests with dangerous beasts lurking out of sight. But it was also home to dizzying beauty. Untouched, wild and free.

Llovesi let the melting snow slip from her fingers to the ground again and stood, brushing powder from her knees. She heard nothing but the softness of the snow falling on the branches above, the quiet whistling of the wind, and her own breath.

"Getting better," she said, and smiled.


	5. Raven Rock

**A/N: Just a quick note - my vision of draugr is more TESV than III, simply because I slightly prefer that version of them and the lore that surrounds them, though I'm not ignoring Bloodmoon's lore by any means.**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter 4: Raven Rock<strong>_

"I don't like it."

"Julan–" Llovesi started.

"It's cold, wet, and gets inside your clothes. You hear about snow in books, and it always sounds so beautiful. It's very pretty, but it's also a giant pain in my–"

"_Julan–_"

"What? I'm from a volcanic island. I'm not meant to be used to snow." He caught her look. "What is it?"

"I think we've arrived."

"Have we?" He looked around. "Ah. I couldn't tell because of all the damn _snow_."

They stood at the crest of a hill, and the land sloped down gently before them to the large inlet on the coast. Through the swirling flakes of snow they could see where an area of the forest had been largely felled of trees and also a few squat, dark shapes that might be buildings. As Gidar had predicted, the sounds of construction reached them from the colony: shouts, hammers on stone, a buzzing sawmill.

As they approached Raven Rock and the snow finally stopped, they noticed just how many of the buildings were skeletal, unfinished, or mere foundations. Only a few were finished, houses from the looks of it, small, low, with thatched roofs, pine frames and rough hewn, grey stone. Sullen-looking workers were splitting stone, chopping wood and mixing mortar, but there weren't very many of them.

The excited chatter of the miners behind them turned apprehensive.

"Where are we going to stay?" Sabinus muttered. "I wasn't expecting this."

Gidar rolled his eyes. "And you were expecting–what? The brand new mining colony to finish construction in a matter of weeks? Daedra give me strength!"

The matter of where they would stay became clear as they walked through the colony, past lone fir trees and large boulders of blackish-grey stone that must have given the colony its name.

"Look," Julan said, pointing at a forlorn row of tents pitched in between the area of construction and the treeline of the forest.

Gidar strolled forward and looked around. "Where is everyone though?" he asked. "I'll give you one thing, Sabinus, this isn't exactly the scrib hive of ebony mining I'd hoped for."

As they stood in silence, looking for someone to talk to, a loud yell rose from nearby.

"Now that sounds fun," Gidar said. "I say we go that way."

The yelling grew louder.

"You'll not infect me with your devilry! I am here to defend Nature! Begone!"

Then, as luck or circumstance would have it, someone appeared for them to talk to. A short Imperial man with dark hair came running past them at a sprint. He was balding, and huffing slightly, wearing battered and tarnished silver armour over his furs, but seemed otherwise fit, and in an incredible hurry.

Gidar reached out, and grabbed his arm.

"Easy there, Imperial," he said. "We want to see whoever's in charge."

The man sighed deeply, but stopped. "If it's not one thing, it's another," he said, his tone fatigued, but warm. "I'm the one who's in charge, here on site at least. Falco Galenus, at your service."

As he turned to them, Llovesi was immediately struck by his resemblance to an old friend of hers, another world-weary Imperial by the name of Percius Mercius. He too had worn the chains of command with an uneasy, if responsible hand. She smiled at him, somehow reassured by the similarity, and he gave her a politely confused look, his eyes flicking softly to her scars.

"Is there anything–" Llovesi began, but was interrupted by Gidar at her side.

"Okay, so it doesn't matter about the boat, we got here just fine. Now, where's the mine? We're ready to work!"

Falco raised his eyebrows. "I don't know what you mean about a boat," he said. "We don't even have a port – which may have something to do with the fact that Carnius never said anything about putting one in – but I digress. I have been telling him we need more miners. I suppose it's expecting too much to hear word of your arrival but... no matter. However, I'm afraid you can't start mining yet. We have a small problem in that area."

"What fetching problem?" Gidar said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Imperial dogs, besmirching the land of my ancestors with your filthy machines! This is not Nature's way!"

"That, uh, "fetching" problem," Falco said, wiggling his fingers into quotation marks. "He's called Hroldar. Hroldar the Strange we've taken to calling him."

Julan groaned.

"Yes, quite. He showed up a few days ago, talking about how we're ruining the land and how we would incur Nature's wrath. I think he's one of the natives, so it's understandable really." Falco looked slightly guilty. "Understandable, but still a nuisance. It wasn't a problem until... well, you'd better come with me if you're interested."

"He'd better not be naked," Julan said, as the five of them followed Falco round a few trees to a larger building. There were a few mine carts outside, and four wary looking men, Imperials and Dunmer, standing back from a tall, shouting Nord outside the entrance of the mine.

"This is an accursed plot to rape the land!" he screamed, spittle flying from his mouth.

One of the Imperials, hearing the group's approach turned. "Ah, Mr. Galenus," he said. "Can't you talk some sense into him? He won't let us get any of our equipment, any time someone goes near him he just shrieks about how he won't be lowered to violence!"

"'Won't be lowered to violence'?" Gidar said, and snorted. "We'll see about that."

Before anyone else could do or say anything, he walked over to the flailing Nord, curled his fist, and socked him squarely in the back of the head. The Nord toppled like a tree onto the frosty ground, and the miners cheered.

Falco, however, ran forward with a look of horror on his face. "No, no! I don't want him killed!"

But the Nord wasn't dead; he was getting to his hands and knees already, groaning loudly.

"Ow!" he moaned, "that's gonna leave a bruise. Okay, okay, I'll go... Dint know you were gonna start _hitting_ me."

He stood up shakily, brushed himself off, then jogged off towards the trees.

Falco raised his hand to his head and pinched his brow for a few seconds.

"Right," he said finally. "Antus, Uryn, we have some new miners. Could I ask you to get them outfitted, show them their tents, then all of you report back to foreman Aldam. That's... five new miners. Excellent."

"We're not here to mine," Julan said quickly.

"No? I'm afraid you've chosen a poor holidaying destination. Why are you here then?"

Llovesi took pity on the deflated-looking Imperial, and decided to complete her earlier question.

"Is there anything we can help with?"

Falco looked up in wonder. "You're... you're offering to help me?" He laughed. "Well, that's a new one. Walk with me, would you?"

They followed him back through the colony as Gidar and the others went off, and he pointed out the various complete and incomplete buildings to them.

"We only have three finished at the moment, two storehouses and a break room for the miners. And the mine of course. It seems like the greatest priority for our factor is getting the mining progressing as quickly as possible, with little regard for the workers. Of course they don't seem to mind too much, which is fortunate. Probably because everyone here is getting some share in the ebony. The builders however..."

He gestured to a few of them, working the sawmill with less-than-pleased expressions.

"I'm not sure they knew what they were letting themselves in for. At first we were transporting materials over from Fort Frostmoth, but that took far too long. Now we make everything on site, so they are quite rightly demanding extra pay. Extra pay we don't have for them." He sighed. "Normally you might expect some builders to settle with a colony once construction is complete. I think these ones will be back on a ship to wherever they came from as soon as they can. Little things keep going wrong here. You met Hroldar, and you've seen the snow – though that won't keep us getting our work done – but there are other things too. Messages not getting across from the fort. Miners not turning up. Supplies going missing.

"I spend all my time trying to ensure construction goes smoothly, and trying to stop things from falling apart. I have little time to chase the little things, but, sadly, the little things need chasing the most often."

He rubbed his forehead. "Why am I telling you all this? It's not exactly encouraging. I don't know – I feel like you're a trustworthy pair, and I know I want this colony to succeed. If you're offering to help..." He paused, as if trying to choose his next words carefully. "I'll be honest – colonialism doesn't sit easy with me. Hroldar... that was unfortunate, but it would have been terrible if he'd died for his beliefs. We... we Imperials have a lot to answer for, I think."

He looked uncomfortable; Julan looked astonished.

"So why did you take the job, then?" he asked. "Surely you could have refused if you feel that way?"

"Not if I wanted to stay on with the East Empire Company," Falco replied. "It's all I've ever done. It's all I'm good at."

They stopped near the edge of the colony, and Falco turned to face them and planted his hands behind his back. "You were serious about wanting to help us here?"

"Er," Julan said.

"Yes," Llovesi said.

Falco looked between the two of them quickly, uncertain.

"Well," he said, "there is something you could do. Funny that Dark Elf should mention a ship... I received word from Carnius – our esteemed factor – about a supply ship arriving. Ridiculous, as I said. Where would a ship of that size land here? I have little time to watch for ships that may or may not exist, but I did hear the men talking about seeing a light out to sea, northwest of here, last night. Perhaps you might investigate?"

* * *

><p>"Why did we agree to help?" Julan stopped walking a little way out of the colony, and turned to face Llovesi. "No actually, why did <em>you<em> agree to help?"

Llovesi stopped too, a little surprised. He hadn't sounded this frustrated since their argument back at the Ahemmusa camp.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"An _Imperial colony_, Llovesi. Did you really think I'd be happy about signing up to help them with their odd jobs?"

Llovesi was wrong-footed. Julan always went along with her. She had expected this time to be no different, and she was wrong.

"I..." she started, and trailed off, not knowing what to say. She had been so caught up in the distraction of being somewhere new, wanting to do new things, forget the past... she had forgotten Julan.

He stood, fists balled, but where the Julan of a few years ago might have unleashed a torrent of pent-up fury, this Julan, maturing Ashkhan of the Ahemmusa, drew two long breaths before speaking in slightly strained tones:

"It's... ugly, Llovesi. That back there... I never thought I'd feel sorry for a _Nord_. But the Imperials did far worse to my people when they decided to colonise Vvardenfell. Years ago, when Ashlanders occupied lands they wanted... burning yurts, killing _children..._" He stopped, unable to continue.

"Yes," Llovesi said softly. There was nothing else she could say. It was all true, all awful. And though she knew Julan was too young, and had lived too far north, to truly remember the beginning of the occupation, it was a memory that weighed heavily and bitterly on his people as a whole. But, despite that and her better intentions, she still felt compelled to defend Falco Galenus; a well-meaning man who she was certain would never hurt anyone deliberately. The way he had run to the Nord after Gidar punched him...

"What the Legions did to your people was a terrible crime," she said. "But this man is not a soldier. I think he's just trying to do some good in the situation he's in."

Julan shrugged, but then nodded in concession.

"Julan," Llovesi said. "Nibani said she saw _all of us_ on this island. I'm not saying that means it will definitely happen but... What if we're meant to help make this a place worth coming to? All we've heard so far is about how terrible Solstheim is, but why should it be that way? The colony isn't even finished yet – maybe there's a chance at peace with the native Nords, a chance to _show_ the Empire that a different approach can work..." Llovesi paused and bit her lip, trying to get her thoughts in order. "And those problems that Falco mentioned: the little things going wrong. What if it's not coincidence? What if there's something deeper here, something to investigate?"

She looked at Julan only to catch him smiling at her, slightly amused.

"What?" she asked. "What's so funny?"

Oh." He stopped smiling. "I don't know... It wasn't a happy memory exactly, I was just thinking... when we were in Mournhold, I think if we had really wanted to leave, we would have gone, and damn the consequences. But you got so caught up in that place, in uncovering its conflict, trying to solve its mysteries and help its people…"

Llovesi crossed her arms hesitantly. "Are you trying to say 'be careful'?" she asked.

"I'm trying to say... I don't even know. I love you."

Llovesi laughed in surprise. "So, you'll stay?"

"Was I ever going to leave? Look, I still don't think this is great. But... you're right; Falco seems like an honest person. Anyway, we've agreed to help him now."

He raised his eyebrows in amused exasperation then shivered, and looked around. "Come on," he said. "It'll probably start _snowing_ again the longer we stay here, and we've got a stupid Imperial ship to find."

* * *

><p>It took them another day of hard travel over the frigid earth before Llovesi and Julan arrived at the coast to the northwest. The sea curled round the land before them into another inlet, splitting off into a river to the north. Across this river, the land seemed pure white. The trees weren't just dusted with snow here; their boughs were creaking under its weight. The sea had chunks of grey ice floating in it, and the jagged rocks on the coast extended far into the water. Treacherous.<p>

"Ahhhhhhhh! Help me!" The woman's scream rent the air suddenly.

Llovesi and Julan didn't hesitate, sprinting after the scream despite their aching limbs.

They didn't notice the robed figure emerging from a cave behind them, watching them go.

As they rounded a corner, they saw the ship. Well, the shipwreck. It had come to rest diagonally, half on the rocks of the coast, the other half being swallowed by the crashing waves. A large splintered gash torn through the length of the hull had spilt crates and barrels into the hungry sea, and far more debris littered the stony beach. But the fact that the ship was wrecked wasn't the most immediate issue.

The woman screamed again, and they could see her, an Imperial in rich clothing, scrambling back against the wreck, tripping over her skirts, holding a sabre in front of her like a ward.

Figures in armour were pressing in on the wreck, and as Llovesi and Julan got closer, they realised there was something terribly wrong with them.

They moved forward with a slow, shambling gait, clutching odd weapons in gnarled hands. Their skin was pale and so withered and shrunken that Llovesi could see ropey muscles and sharp bones standing out under the creatures' half-rusted armour. One of them turned back as Llovesi and Julan approached, and though its face was the grim rictus of a skeleton, its eyes burned bright blue with life.

Llovesi blinked, and she was back in the crypts below Mournhold.

_I've made a terrible mistake._

She fumbled for her swords with trembling fingers as the lich turned back for her.

_Some things are best left buried._

Julan was running forward, his own sword raised high. Llovesi drew Trueflame and Hopesfire finally, flames licking along the blades as she raised them as if in a dream.

_No, that's all done now, I'm here, not there, I need to fight..._

The lich swung its battle-axe at her, and she jumped back, just in time.

She raised Hopesfire to block, and swung Trueflame at the lich's face. It jumped back with a groan. _Fire, it's afraid of fire_. She swung again, but to her surprise the lich seemed to be expecting that. It sidestepped with an agility a dead creature shouldn't possess, and grabbed her wrist. Shocked, she dropped Trueflame.

Then its bony hands were around her neck, raising her up. As lights popped before her sight, she found herself absorbing very detail of its caved-in cheeks, the few limp white hairs that clung to the top of its skull, its bright blue eyes, burning with... sorrow?

"_Krosis_," it whispered, as its skeletal fingers closed around her windpipe.

"Argh!" The shout from behind them was sudden and unexpected, but not as unexpected as the lich's head separating suddenly from its shoulders.

Llovesi dropped to her knees, rubbing her throat and grasping for air. The lich crumpled where it stood and behind it, still clutching its dropped battle-axe, was a Nord man dressed in fur armour.

He held a hand out to her. Llovesi dimly realised she was still holding Hopesfire limply in her right hand. She sheathed it, retrieved Trueflame, then took the man's offered hand.

"It _spoke_ to me," she said hoarsely.

The man simply nodded. "We should see if your friends are all right," he said.

The other lichs were dead, but Llovesi could see other bodies on the ground now, other victims. Sailors, perhaps. A Bosmer, his face permanently frozen in shocked horror. Julan was helping the woman who had screamed to her feet. The sabre was gone, and Llovesi noticed it buried to the hilt in another lich. The woman must have killed it. She didn't seem reassured by the fact though, and was gasping out a near-hysterical stream of words as she clutched Julan's neck.

"... I don't even know what I was _thinking _hitching a ride on a supply ship in the first place. Who appoints a Wood Elf captain of a ship? I should've known better. He was completely incompetent, such an odd little fellow, always waving that sword around, though it certainly came in handy, now that I think of it. He was injured in that horrible crash anyway and he certainly didn't last long against those horrible undead things, none of them did. They're all dead, all the supplies are ruined. Ugh. Those horrid _things_. What _were_ those things?"

She said it all without pausing for breath, then looked up, noticing Llovesi and the Nord man approach. Julan carefully removed her arms from around his neck.

"They..." Llovesi paused to take a deep, shuddering breath. "They were lichs. I've fought them in... in Mournhold before."

The Nord man next to her coughed politely, and then spoke in a gravelly voice.

"I'm afraid you're wrong. They're not lichs. They are – they were – draugr. Once Nords, they were cursed to walk this land in undeath for following the dragon cult in ancient times, though I have heard that the ones on this island were cursed for cannibalism." He shrugged. "I don't meet many travellers, but the ones I do meet I swap stories with to pass the time. There are many ruins buried beneath the snow and ice here, I've heard. These draugr were probably resting near the surface when they were awakened by the crash."

He stopped talking as he realised everyone was looking at him, and swept his furred helm from his head. "Thormoor Gray-Wave," he said, by way of introduction. "I saw your light off the coast two nights ago, and travelled down from my watch. It is my duty to watch the waves for people in need, and I have learnt to feel the land. Yes, the land is changing somewhat. The surface is waking, and I will watch, day and night."

A rather ominous silence followed this, which the Imperial woman soon interrupted.

"But when do you sleep, dear man?" She was staring at him, mouth agape, but before he could reply she launched into another spiel. "But it was so good of you to come to my rescue, all of you. Oh! I haven't even introduced myself. Apronia Alfena! It seems I've had a rather rude introduction to Solstheim, but I do so want to explore it. Perhaps when I'm warm and dry though..."

She threw herself back onto Julan.

"Oh, please, take me back with you, wherever you came from! I figure you must be from either the colony or the fort, and either one of those options is fine. I mean, where else could you have come from? Some strange little hut in the woods? Ha ha - that sure would be odd, wouldn't it! What kind of person just lives in the woods all alone? I mean, I hope you're not going to turn out to be some crazy people and take me out into the woods and kill me, right? You seem normal. I guess you should just take me to whoever your boss is. I mean, I hope you're not offended that I'm assuming that you're not the boss; it's just that people that tend to be bosses of things don't usually wander around the countryside looking for people to help. They send other people out to do those sort of things, don't they?"

Apronia laughed again, a pleasant, silvery sound, and shook her dark hair back while batting her eyelashes at Julan.

"Er," Julan said, looking between her, Llovesi and Thormoor in turn. "Well, I'm Julan, and er... that's my wife, Llovesi... we came from Raven Rock. I guess we can take you back there..."

"Oh!" Apronia blushed pinkly and carefully removed her arms from Julan's neck, brushing her skirts awkwardly. "Well, that would be delightful! There isn't even any food left here to survive on! I managed for a whole day until you came, inside the ship where it was fairly dry. But then I heard noises, you know, and I just had to see what they were. But thank goodness I did really, because if I hadn't, you might have just killed those _things_, those... _draw-ger..._ and never even found me!"

She laughed again, then looked around. "Oh, why aren't we going anywhere yet?"

"Are you sure you'll be warm enough?" Llovesi asked. It was the only thing she could think of to say; the woman's relentless talk had dazed her. But her clothing was dazzling too, and totally inappropriate for Solstheim's climate. She was artfully wrapped in layers of thin, gauzy silken fabric in shifting blues and cream, embroidered with golden thread. Between that and her twinkly laugh, she was like a New Life decoration that had learnt to talk.

"Oh, you dear, I'll be quite fine!" Apronia clucked her tongue. "Anyway, the sooner we get moving, the sooner I will be warm, correct?"

Thormoor bowed his head. Up close, Llovesi noticed how shadowed his eyes were, how strained his composure.

"I must return to my watch," he said. "But, before you three leave, a moment of your time? I promise I shall not hold you long."

Llovesi and Julan nodded, and Apronia exclaimed, "go ahead, dear man!"

"I have watched the sea day and night for six months, for I have been unable to sleep for six months. Ever since that fateful night. I was ferrying some settlers from Skyrim to Solstheim. I was tired that night... so tired. I fell asleep at the rudder, and before I could wake, the ship drifted into the path of a terrible storm."

Apronia gasped theatrically. Thormoor looked slightly disconcerted, but continued speaking.

"When I did wake, it was far too late to do anything. The ship capsized, and only two survivors washed up on the shore – me, and an older man whose entire family was lost in the disaster. He was a seer and a wizard, I learned, for when I admitted my failure, he cursed me. He said I would never sleep again, and since that night I have not. Instead, I stand on the spot where we arrived, watching the sea. I am exhausted, but no matter what I do, I cannot sleep."

"Oh, you poor, dear man." Apronia said sympathetically. "Though it was rather foolish of you to lose the ship that way. All those poor people."

Thormoor hung his head. "I do not deny my crime, but I believe I have served my penance. Should any of you meet this seer, this Geilir the Mumbling, perhaps you might try and convince him to lift my curse? I can only imagine he has made himself a dwelling somewhere here on Solstheim. Do this for me and you will have my eternal gratitude. I'm afraid I cannot offer much else."

"We will do what we can," Llovesi said, though she was secretly doubtful. What hope did any of them have finding one man on the entirety of this island? He could be anywhere, and it was unlikely he would want to be found.

They said their goodbyes, and then turned back south with Apronia striding eagerly beside them. She kept up a non-stop chatter as they went, pointing out every holly bush, every brook, even every snow drift, all the while twirling the sabre she had taken from the Bosmer captain.

"I sure can't thank you enough for rescuing me from that horrible shipwreck," she kept saying. "I'm sure I'll have a delightful time in the colony; I do hope that the people there are nice and like to chat."

"Perhaps we can introduce her to Gidar," Julan whispered. "Do you think Mundus will be able to cope, the two of them together?"

The three of them continued on into the growing dusk.

None of them noticed the robed figure, tracking them at a distance.


	6. Crossroads

_**Chapter 5 – Crossroads**_

"Oh, what a delightful little place!" Apronia gasped, then lifted her skirts and strode eagerly into Raven Rock, her new sabre banging at her hip.

Llovesi glanced at Julan as Apronia walked in front of them. So far on the trip he'd managed to restrain his exasperation to a few eye-rolls and sighs. Apronia was harmless, friendly, but extremely talkative – to the point where a few hours in her company reduced one to fatigue, and a whole day had them contemplating finding the nearest Nordic barrow and locking themselves in for a moment of peace and quiet.

Llovesi couldn't help but like the optimistic Imperial though, and she suspected that Julan, despite himself, felt the same. She was ditzy yes, but also pleasant, bold and determined to make the most of her situation. Now, however, Julan added a mutter to his usual eye roll:

"I knew she was optimistic; I didn't realise she was completely _deluded_," he whispered as Apronia spun round in the middle of the colony.

He had a point. The colony, in its current state was far from delightful. Perhaps one day the as yet unfinished houses might look cosy and inviting, but for now the whole place was forlorn. If not for the builders walking about, and the few miners, the place might have looked abandoned. Still, the work had carried on at an almost impressive rate in the two days they had been gone. Llovesi counted another building finished, a wooden watchtower on the eastern edge, and the very beginnings of a dark stone wall. There was even a small wooden dock, where a bored looking Dunmer sailor was attending to the mooring of her cutter.

They walked over to Apronia, who turned to them. "This looks like a nice place!" she said. "Maybe we should go find whoever's in charge, and see if they have a nice room I could borrow for a while. One without quite so much, well, frost and dirt." She laughed her tinkling laugh.

"And who might you be?" Falco had appeared from a nearby building. He had changed out of his dented armour, and was wearing thick brown furs, and holding more of them in his arms.

"She survived the shipwreck," Julan said quickly, as Apronia opened her mouth.

"Ship_wreck_?" Falco's brow furrowed. "So you found the ship then. I told Carnius it was a bad idea to take the lowest bidder, and that this was too important to not take seriously. Now we'll need to order new supplies, and get the dock expanded so the ship can land here–oh, what am I talking about?"

He dropped the furs to his side, and took Apronia's hand, shaking it. She giggled and blushed.

"At least one survivor made it," Falco said. "That the important thing, not supplies or ships. You did the right thing in bringing her here, uh…"

Llovesi realised they'd never even told Falco who they were. "Llovesi," she said. "And this is Julan, and Apronia."

"A pleasure. And thank you, Llovesi and Julan. You've got a good instinct, and a sense of humanity. It sets a tone for how I want us to do things here."

He picked the furs up again, and held the pile out to them. "I took these from our storage. The least I could do for you agreeing to help us here. It's elk hide, all the way from Skyrim, and the gloves are rabbit fur, so they should be a lot warmer than your current clothes. If you mean to stay."

They took the furs from Falco gratefully. He turned to Apronia apologetically. "I'm afraid I did not know you would be arriving, my lady, otherwise, I would have retrieved some for you as well. But, perhaps you don't want to stay here. I imagine the fort might be more comfortable, but as the only woman… perhaps you'd be better off catching a boat over to Morrowind, or Skyrim."

Apronia waved a hand pleasantly. "Nonsense, dear man," she said. "I've had quite enough time travelling. I wanted to come to Solstheim, and here I am. Though I think perhaps my exploration can wait, haha. And don't worry; I won't get under your feet. In fact, I think I could be quite useful to a growing colony. I trained as an accountant in the Imperial City, you know, so I can help balance your books, keep an eye on stock, that sort of thing. People always forget the small things in new ventures. I could even make deals with your suppliers – my mother always told me I had a winning personality." She finished speaking and flashed Falco a winning smile. He seemed uncharacteristically dazed.

"Yes, well, you've certainly got a, uh, personality, that's for sure. If you want to stay, I'm sure we can find a place for you, we've got new homes going up every day now."

"Perfect," Apronia smiled as if she couldn't possibly be more contented.

Falco smiled back, a touch uncertain. "If you head over to that building," he said, pointing, "you'll find our foreman, Aldam Berendus. He's the one with the red hair. Explain who you are and that I sent you, and he'll get you set up with a place to stay and some warmer clothes. I'll check on you later, and maybe we can have a look at the logs. I just need to have a word with Llovesi and Julan here."

As Apronia sauntered off, he turned back to them with a somewhat graver expression.

"I'd like you to take a report of what happened to our factor, Carnius Magius, over at the fort," he said. "Don't think I'm treating you as common couriers now, I know from your actions in rescuing Apronia that this sort of task is beneath your talents. I'd like you to go over to the fort because I think it's time you met the man. Besides, we can't do anything here without the utmost regard for procedure. I doubt he'll care about the ship, but Stendarr forbid he doesn't know every little detail of what goes on here. Use it as an opportunity to get the measure of him."

He sighed, and nudged a pebble on the ground with his boot.

"To tell you the truth, I have my suspicions that he has ulterior motives for accepting this position of factor. We grew up on the same street in Elven Gardens, actually, and entered the EEC as clerks at the same time. He's always been ambitious, and he's never liked me. He's also pragmatic, opportunistic, and I'm worried he might be ruthless. Don't take my word for it though, meet him yourselves, and see what we're up against. He's shrewd, so he'll likely recognise the fact that you're not mere errand runners. Perhaps he'll make you some offer. Before you accept it, I'd like you to think about this place. What you want it to be, and what it would be under his hand alone."

He stepped back, and watched Llovesi and Julan as they absorbed this new information. "He's been given quarters above the Imperial shrine," he said finally. "Veresa can take you over in her cutter. She's assured me the trip only takes a couple of hours, so it will save you the long trek through the forest, at least. What do you say?"

"We'll go," Julan said.

* * *

><p>The trip was certainly a lot faster by sea than land. Llovesi and Julan sat at the boat's prow in their new furs, as the same wind that filled the sails dragged their hair back from their faces with its chill fingers.<p>

They arrived at the dock by the fort no later than midday.

"How long do you think you'll be?" Veresa asked, as she lay the gangplank down. "Want me to stick around?"

"Please," Llovesi said, as she descended. "If it's not too much trouble."

"Not at all," Veresa said, taking some hackle-lo leaf from a pouch at her hip with a wink.

"So," Llovesi said, once they were walking up the stony path to the fort, huddled in their furs against the wind. "You've definitely changed your mind about helping Falco? You were quick to agree to coming to the fort."

Julan shrugged. "What if the colony is _meant _to fail, Llovesi? That would show the Empire."

"You can't be thinking of _helping _this Carnius man? He sounds awful!"

Julan looked aghast. "Gods, no! I'm just curious. I just want to meet the guy, see if it's worth letting the whole place collapse in on itself."

"If the colony failed because of Carnius, it would be failing for the wrong reasons," Llovesi said. "Falco is a good person in a bad situation." With that, they both entered the fort.

It was a grim place, with an atmosphere not much better than the colony. Though the stones were clearly freshly cut and lain it felt somehow run-down. The few legionnaires standing around the small courtyard by the well glared at them as they passed, muttering.

"… kill for a drink…"

"… freezing my arse off, and for what…"

Llovesi and Julan approached a group of soldiers muttering amongst themselves.

"… new recruits as well…"

"Can't say I blame them. Divines know I'd take off if I thought it'd do me any good. And the missing weapons…?"

They all stopped too as Llovesi and Julan walked up.

"What d'you want, Elves?" one growled. His face was pink from shaving, and he had small close-set eyes that were currently narrowed in dislike.

Llovesi dearly wanted to snap back, _none of your business!_ But they had to find Carnius. Unfortunately.

"To get to the Imperial Shrine," she said shortly.

"Pah!" The man gestured to his companions, drawing in a small group to surround them. "Look at this!" he said loudly. "A pair of Elves coming to kneel before the Divines! Your heathen gods abandon you?"

"Let us through," Julan said through gritted teeth.

"Wanna make me, Elf? Or perhaps your friend will," the man said. "Here, she looks like a girl I screwed back in Suran. Uglier though. Still, I'm willing if she is. Maybe then we'll let you go."

The other men snickered: low, mean sounds echoing around the circle.

Llovesi placed her hands on the hilts of her swords, almost casually. Julan slipped his fist around his sword too, a vein rising on his forehead as he glared at the soldiers. The men moved forward too, one of them cracking their knuckles.

They all stared each other down, no one moving. Even the wind dropped, leaving the air thick and silent.

"What's going on here?"

A short, thick set Imperial with tan skin and close-cropped dark hair was standing behind them all. He was wearing the golden breastplate that normally signified high ranking in the Legion. Several of the legionnaires lowered their eyes. Whether it was out of respect or fear, Llovesi couldn't tell.

"Nothing much, Captain," one of the men said. "Just helping some strangers on their way."

"Back to your posts," the captain said with narrowed eyes, every word firm and promising retribution.

The men shuffled off one by one, the tension in the air dropping several notches. The captain motioned to Llovesi and Julan to follow him through a wooden door inside. Only once they were out of sight of the legionnaires did his posture drop and a long sigh escape his lips.

"Sorry about that," he said, and offered them his hand. "Captain Falx Carius. Not the best welcome to Fort Frostmoth."

_Another Imperial with the weight of the Empire on his shoulders_, Llovesi thought. Out loud, she said: "we're looking for Carnius Magius."

"Ah, from the colony are you? I know they have a lot of Dark Elves over there. The Factor is quartered just upstairs." Captain Carius passed a gauntleted hand over his short hair. "If that's all I can help you with, I should get on with my rounds. Speak with the men." He gave them a curt nod, then disappeared back through the door.

"Are you alright?" Julan asked in a low voice.

"Of course," Llovesi replied. "We've dealt with far worse."

"Yes but still… fetchers."

"Fetchers," Llovesi echoed bitterly.

A stone spiral staircase took them up a level, to a small hall, richly carpeted, with tapestries covering the bare stone walls. The were a few chairs carved from a rich, dark wood, with plush lilac cushions, but no one was waiting there.

At the end of the hall, standing before a table bearing silverware and candles, was a slim Imperial man with oiled dark hair, dressed in blue silks. Llovesi and Julan strode straight up to him.

"You have company business to discuss?" he asked haughtily before either Llovesi or Julan could say a word. "Please step inside and see Carnius. Otherwise, turn right back around and head out the door you came in."

He gestured first to a door to their right, then nodded behind them to the staircase.

"We're here to see Carnius," Julan said.

"Then step right through. The Factor does not enjoy being kept waiting."

The man writing at the desk didn't even look up as they entered. He was handsome, of an age with Falco, with a neatly trimmed beard and neatly combed hair. His clothes were almost fussy: cream silk pants, curled shoes, a navy jacket over frills, but a quiet strength in his posture belied the overt foppishness.

"Time is money," he said quietly, in the clipped tones of a noble as his quill scratched over the parchment. "And I have little of both. Who are you, and what is your business here?"

"We've come from the colony," Julan said.

He looked up at that, then placed his quill down carefully and got to his feet. He was a tall, broad man, and moved with a deliberated slowness. He seemed to fill the small office as he stood.

"Have you indeed?" he asked.

_Who know who we are_, Llovesi realised suddenly. _Who I am, at any rate_. Carnius was certainly a shrewd man. A quick glance at her face, her scars, a careful readjustment of his posture to appear more welcoming. He probably imagined she hadn't noticed, but Llovesi had spent so long watching eyes crawl over her face that she spotted every moment of recognition, no matter how subtle. _He thinks he has the upper hand. In fact, he's used to it_.

"From the colony," Carnius echoed slowly, folding his arms. "And what news from the colony?"

"The supply ship you chartered was wrecked," Julan said shortly, shifting his body closer to Llovesi's. _He's realised too_.

"The ship wrecked? This is unacceptable. After the money I spent on this venture... Fine, fine. Another ship will have to be sent for." Carnius shook his head in disgust, but didn't dismiss them. Instead, he continued watching them, like a kagouti watches its prey.

Llovesi shivered slightly. Why did she find this man intimidating? They had dealt with nobles before, and nobles that wielded far more power. And dangerous men too. He was certainly callous, not even asking after any survivors. But something told Llovesi that Carnius was both powerful, and dangerous, and he held more cards than them. And she had learnt that politics was game to be played carefully.

So she waited, and casually rubbed her telepathy ring, telling Julan to wait too. To see what this powerful, dangerous man did next.

Her eye flicked about the furniture, the neat desk, with stacked papers and ornamental silverware, then further away to a stone archway and the modest bedroom laying beyond. It came to rest on a curious looking mace, mounted above the desk, and lingered too long.

"Ah," Carnius said. "Admiring my mace?"

"I've never seen steel like that before," Llovesi replied. It was bluish, and despite its elegantly carved hilt, looked brutish and powerful.

"No, I don't imagine you have. It's an old family heirloom, made of a very rare material. Now," he said, and they all turned from the mace to look at each other once more, "I believe we were discussing the colony?"

He walked towards them, tracing the knots in the wood of the table with a finger as he approached.

"You are intelligent folk," he said. "I can tell that just by looking at you. And intelligent people make good choices, not just for themselves, but for the future of others. I believe I am also an intelligent person. You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours."

He paused, his fingers drumming on the table, his head tilted as he watched them.

"Go on," Llovesi said.

"You've come from Falco. No doubt you're well accustomed to his optimistic drivel. He'll have gone on about the good of the colony, about making it a success for the people, setting an example for the Empire… Don't be fooled. The colony will be profitable for as long as the Empire wants it to be, then we'll all be out in the cold."

"What do you suggest?" Julan asked. _That's it, Julan,_ Llovesi thought gratefully. They had to play Carnius at his own game, if they wanted him to reveal his hand.

Carnius looked them both up and down, and smiled. "Believe me," he said. "Between us we could whip this island into a proper shape. There's wealth here the Empire has _no idea_ about. I think it's clear that I'm in a position to offer you a great deal more than Falco might; work with me, and you may end up taking Falco's place. What say you?"

_Falco was right_, Llovesi thought. "Can we discuss it outside?" she asked.

Carnius waved a hand generously. "Take a little time and think it over," he said. "But not too much time. I am not a patient man."

Llovesi and Julan retreated a short way down the hall, out of earshot, though Carnius's clerk was watching them.

"Ugh, he's odious," Julan said.

Llovesi nodded. "He reminds me of Crassius Curio. Only, without the charm or sexual harassment."

"What I don't understand is, he's so obviously in this for his own gain. No one could possibly think following his plans would be a good idea." Julan frowned.

"I think he only told us those things because he thinks there's a chance we'll work with him, and he wants to intimidate us first," Llovesi whispered. "He knows I'm the Nerevarine; he thinks I'm in this for power, or wealth. I can think of a few others who've thought the same," she added with disgust.

"So," Julan said. "I guess maybe this colony is meant to survive, if the other option is Carnius exploiting it. I'd never normally side with the Imperials, but given the choice between him and Falco…" he shuddered. "Falco any day."

"I like the easy choices," Llovesi said with a grim smile. "Shall we?"

"So, what will it be?" Carnius asked as they re-entered his office. "Success or failure?"

"Success," Llovesi replied. "But not with you. Our answer is no."

Carnius took a sharp breath, and smiled, though it did not reach his eyes. "I am disappointed, though not terribly surprised. Do as you will, _Nerevarine_, but do not cross me or you will regret it. Tell Falco of this, but do not imagine you have any sway over me. You will never be able to prove I have even spoken with you. And make your moves carefully. You do not want me as a true enemy. Constans," he called. "See our visitors get back to the docks safely."

He sat back at his desk, and resumed writing, indicating their audience was over, as the clerk opened the door to escort Llovesi and Julan away.

* * *

><p>"So, he offered you a choice then?" It was evening on Solstheim, and Llovesi and Julan were sitting with Falco in the miners' break room, talking quietly while the miners downed flagons of matze, relaxing after another day's work.<p>

"Yes," Julan said. "Between you or him, over the future of the colony."

Falco leant back in his chair, and though the candlelight cast obscure flickering shadows everywhere, they could see he looked relieved, rather than worried.

"That makes things a lot clearer," he said. "You remember I told you I had no choice to come to Raven Rock? I admit I was obscuring the truth slightly, until I understood who you were. And, I admit I have been asking around as well. Gidar tells me you're the Nerevarine, and you're the leader of an Ashlander tribe?" he nodded to them in turn. "I didn't recognise you at first, but I suspect Carnius did. But now I also suspect your values differ from his markedly."

He leant forward, and steepled his fingers beneath his chin.

"I can reveal to you now that the true reason I took this position was to counter whatever schemes Carnius may have. I want to see this colony succeed, Llovesi and Julan, but succeed in a way that shows the Empire that honest work and respectful diplomacy are worth more than the force the Legion commands. I believe you can help me to see that it does. Whatever Carnius's plans are, I know they will be carried out at the expense of the hard-working people of this colony, and perhaps even the natives on this island. In fact, I half wonder if he doesn't just intend the colony to fail so he can collect the insurance money from the investors. But no one would ever believe us. He has an exemplary record, and his hand is untraceable in all the issues we've had here. So, whether you realised it or not, you arrived at a crossroads today. I hope you feel you chose the correct path."

"I suppose we'll find out soon enough," Julan said. "There was something else weird. Carnius mentioned 'wealth the Empire has no idea about', here on Sosltheim. What did he mean by that?"

Llovesi gave a low whistle, impressed. She had forgotten about that herself, so concerned getting Carnius to admit his plans; she had ignored what the plans might actually be.

Falco looked thunderstruck. "But… how? We only discovered it today…" Then he sighed. "I was hoping to discuss this with you in the morning, but I think perhaps you had better see it now, if things are moving this fast. Please, follow me."

He took the candle from the table, and led them outside. After walking for a few moments, Llovesi realised they were headed for the mine. Falco took a key from his pocket and unlocked the front doors, lifted the wooden bar, and opened the entrance.

The mine smelt of rock, earth and dust. Llovesi and Julan coughed slightly as Falco lit some torches with the candle, and passed them out between them.

"The men made a discovery while you were away," he said. "A group was mining in the deep tunnels, when they came across a part of the stone that seemed quite hollow. It crumbled beneath their picks and… well, I think you'd better see it for yourselves."

They followed Falco down, following the minecart rails deeper and deeper. Here and there the torchlight illuminated the dark, glassy deposits of ebony in the walls. But the deeper they went, the more the walls seemed natural, not carved out by miners picks. They heard the far off trickle of a stream, and felt a cool wind on their faces.

Falco noted their surprise. "The mine was built on top of these natural ebony caves, in the hope that we might break through to them. That we did, and more. We're nearly there."

They followed him silently for a few more minutes, ducking under wooden supports and stepping over stones carefully.

"Here," Falco said finally, and ushered them through a large gap in the rock.

Llovesi couldn't help gasping out loud. They'd stepped into a large hall that stretched down into darkness away from their torches. Carved pillars rose up to the ceiling, some crumbled into dust, other forming arches against the rock above them. And in between the pillars, heavy stone coffins had been laid, on the ground, in snug alcoves on the wall. Some of these had given into age too, the lids fallen to the ground, spilling their cargo. Bones, bones littered the cracks on the floor.

They'd just walked into a Nordic burial chamber.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I couldn't not tackle the Raven Rock storyline! It's such a major part of Bloodmoon for me. I hope those of you that are reading along are enjoying, and if you have any comments, please don't forget to leave a review!**


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